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EPHEMERA   CRITICA 


EPHEMERA  CRITICA 

OR  PLAIN  TRUTHS  ABOUT 
CURRENT   LITERATURE 


BY  JOHN  CHURTON 
I^COLLINS 


Non  verebor  nominare  singulos,  quo  facilius,  propositis  exemplis, 
appareat,  quibus  gradibus  fracta  sit  et  deminuta  eloquentia. 

—Dial,  de  Orat. 

aXviiav  oXnfra.,  \i.O[i.^a.v  5i*  imtnttiputv  dAirpoit. 

— Pindar 


Fourth  Edition 


NEW  YORK 
E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 

ARCHIBALD  CONSTABLE  AND  CO  LTD 

3  WHITEHALL  GARDENS,  WESTMINSTER 

1902 


Butler  &  Tanner, 

The  Selwood  Printing  Works, 

Frome,  and  London. 


PREFACE 

IT  is  time  for  some  one  to  speak  out.  When 
we  compare  the  condition  and  prospects  of 
Science  in  all  its  branches,  its  organization,  its 
standards,  its  aims,  its  representatives  with  those 
of  Literature,  how  deplorable  and  how  humilia- 
ting is  the  contrast !  In  the  one  we  see  an 
ordered  realm,  in  the  other  mere  chaos.  The 
one,  serious,  strenuous,  progressive,  is  displaying 
an  energy  as  wonderful  in  what  it  has  accom- 
plished as  in  what  it  promises  to  accomplish ; 
the  other,  without  soul,  without  conscience,  with- 
out nerve,  aimless,  listless  and  decadent,  appears 
to  be  stagnating,  almost  entirely,  into  the  mono- 
poly of  those  who  are  bent  on  futilizing  and  de- 
grading it. 

Science  stands  where  it  does,  not  simply  by 
virtue  of  the  genius,  the  industry,  the  example 
of  its  most  distinguished  representatives,  but  be- 
cause by  those  representatives  the  whole  sphere 
of  its  activity  is  being  directed  and  controlled. 
The  care  of  the  Universities,  the  care  of  learned 
societies,  the  care  of  devoted  enthusiasts,  its  in- 
terests and  honour  are  watchfully  and  jealously 

3 


PREFACE 

guarded.  The  qualifications  of  its  teachers  are 
guaranteed  by  tests  prescribed  by  the  highest 
authorities  on  the  subjects  professed.  To  stan- 
dards fixed  and  maintained  by  those  authorities 
is  referred  every  serious  contribution  to  its 
literature.  Even  a  popular  lecturer,  or  a  popular 
writer,  who  undertook  to  be  its  exponent  would 
be  exploded  at  once  if  he  displayed  ignorance 
and  incompetence.  Such,  indeed,  is  the  solidarity 
of  its  energies  that  it  is  rather  in  the  degrees 
and  phases  of  their  manifestation  than  in  their 
essence  and  characteristics  that  they  vary. 
There  is  not  a  scientific  institution  in  England 
the  regulations  and  aims  of  which  do  not  bear 
the  impress  of  such  masters  as  Huxley  and 
Tyndall  and  their  disciples  ;  not  a  work  issuing 
from  the  scientific  Press  which  is  not  a  proof 
of  the  influence  which  such  men  have  exercised 
and  are  exercising,  and  of  the  high  standard 
exacted  and  attained  wherever  Science  is  taught 
and  interpreted. 

It  is  far  otherwise  with  Literature.  Those 
who  represent  it,  in  a  sense  analogous  to  that 
in  which  the  men  who  have  been  referred  to 
represent  Science,  have  neither  voice  nor  in- 
fluence in  its  organization,  as  a  subject  of  in- 
struction, at  the  centres  of  education.  They 
neither  give  it  the  ply,  nor  in  any  way  affect 
its  standards  and  its  character  in  practice  and 
production.  As  examples  few  follow  them,  as 
counsellors  no  one  heeds  them.     They  constitute 

4 


PREFACE 

what   is   little    more    than    an    esoteric    body, 
moving  in  a  sphere  of  its  own. 

And  yet  there  is  no  reason  at  all  why  there 
should  not  be  the  same  solidarity  in  the  activity 
of  Literature  as  there  is  in  the  activity  of  Science, 
and  why  the  standard  of  aim  and  attainment 
in  the  one  should  not  be  as  high  as  in  the  other. 
But  this  can  never  be  accomplished  until  certain 
radical  reforms  are  instituted,  and  the  first  step 
towards  reform  is  to  demonstrate  the  necessity 
for  it.  I  have  done  so  here.  I  have  drawn  at- 
tention to  the  state  of  things  in  our  Universities, 
— in  other  words,  to  what  I  must  take  leave  to 
call  the  scandalous  and  incredible  indifference  of 
the  Councils  of  those  Universities  to  the  appeals 
which  have,  during  the  last  fifteen  years,  been 
made  to  them  to  place  the  study  of  Literature,  in 
the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  upon  the  footing 
on  which  they  have  placed  other  studies.  I  have 
pointed  out  what  have  been,  and  what  must 
continue  to  be,  the  effects  of  that  indifference. 
I  have  given  specimens  of  the  books  to  which 
the  Universities  are  not  ashamed  to  affix  their 
invprimatur,  and  I  have  shown  that,  so  far  from 
them  considering  even  their  reputation  involved 
in  such  a  matter,  they  do  not  scruple  to  circulate 
works  teeming  with  blunders  and  absurdities  of 
the  grossest  kind,  blunders  and  absurdities  to 
which  their  attention  has  been  publicly  called 
over  and  over  again.  I  have  given  specimens 
of  the   kind  of  works  which  the  occupants  of 

5 


PREFACE 

distinguished  Chairs  of  Literature  can,  with  per- 
fect impunity,  address  to  students ;  and  I  would 
ask  any  scientific  man  what  would  be  thought 
of  a  Professor,  say,  of  the  Royal  Naval  College, 
or  of  the  City  and  Guilds  of  London  Institute, 
who  should  put  his  name  to  analogous  publica- 
tions— to  publications,  that  is  to  say,  as  unsound 
in  their  theories,  as  inaccurate  in  their  facts,  as 
slovenly  and  perfunctory  in  general  execution, 
as  those  to  which  I  have  here  directed  attention  ? 
If  such  things  are  done  in  the  green  tree,  what 
is  likely  to  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  or,  as  Chaucer 
puts  it,  "if  gold  ruste,  what  schal  yren  doo?" 
That  is  one  of  the  questions  on  which  these 
essays  may,  perhaps,  throw  some  light. 

To  be  misrepresented  and  misunderstood  is 
the  certain  fate  of  a  book  like  this,  and  I  am 
well  aware  of  the  responsibilities  incurred  in 
undertaking  it.  It  is  very  distasteful  to  me  to 
give  pain  or  cause  annoyance  to  any  one,  and, 
whether  I  am  believed  or  not,  I  can  say,  with 
strict  truth,  that  I  have  not  the  smallest  personal 
bias  against  any  of  those  whom  I  have  cen- 
sured most  severely.  I  believe,  for  the  reasons 
already  explained,  that  Belles  Lettres  are  sink- 
ing deeper  and  deeper  into  degradation,  that 
they  are  gradually  passing  out  of  the  hands  of 
their  true  representatives,  and  becoming  almost 
the  monopoly  of  their  false  representatives,  and 
that  the  consequence  of  this  cannot  but  be  most 
disastrous  to  us  as  a  nation,  to  our  reputation 


PREFACE 

in  the  "World  of  Letters,  to  taste,  to  tone,  to 
morals.  It  is  surely  a  shame  and  a  crime  in 
any  one,  and  more  especially  in  men  occupying 
positions  of  influence  and  authority,  to  assist  in 
the  work  of  corruption,  either  by  deliberately 
writing  bad  books  or  by  conniving,  as  critics,  at 
the  production  of  bad  books  ;  and  I  am  very 
sure  it  has  become  a  duty,  and  an  imperative 
duty,  to  expose  and  denounce  them. 

These  essays  are  partly  a  protest  and  partly 
an  experiment.  As  a  protest  they  explain,  and,  I 
hope,  justify  themselves  ;  as  an  experiment  they 
are  an  attempt  to  illustrate  what  we  should  be 
fortunate  if  we  could  see  more  frequently  illus- 
trated by  abler  hands.  They  are  a  series  of 
studies  in  serious,  patient,  and  absolutely  impar- 
tial criticism,  having  for  its  object  a  comprehen- 
sive survey  of  the  vices  and  defects,  as  well  as 
of  the  merits,  characteristic  of  current  Belles 
Lettres.  I  do  not  suppose  that  anything  I  have 
said  will  have  the  smallest  effect  on  the  present 
generation,  but  on  the  rising  generation  I  be- 
lieve that  much  which  has  been  said  will  not  be 
thrown  away.  In  any  case,  what  I  was  con- 
strained to  write  I  have  written.  And  it  is  my 
last  word  in  a  long  controversy. 

It  remains  to  add  that  most  of  these  essays 
appeared  originally  in  the  Saturday  Review,  and 
I  desire  to  express  my  thanks  to  the  late  and  pre- 
sent Editors,  not  merely  for  permission  to  repro- 
duce the  essays,  but  for  much  kindness  besides. 

7 


1PREFACI5 

Three  appeared  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  and 
one,  the  first  essay  on  "  English  Literature 
at  the  Universities,"  in  the  Nhieteenth  Century  ; 
and  my  thanks  are  due  to  the  Editor  of  the  Pall 
Mall  Gazette  and  to  Mr.  Knowles.  But  all  of 
them  have  been  carefully  revised  and  greatly 
enlarged,  in  some  cases  to  more  than  double 
their  original  form.  The  introductory  essay  is, 
with  the  exception  of  the  opening  pages,  in 
which  I  have  drawn  on  an  old  article  of  mine  in 
the  Quarterly  Review,  quite  new;  and,  indeed, 
that  may  be  said  of  a  great  part  of  the  volume. 


NOTE   TO  THE   SECOND   EDITION 

I  REGRET  to  find  that  I  have  done  M.  Jasserand 
grave  injustice  in  censuring  him  for  being 
ignorant  of  the  existence  of  the  Speculum 
Meditantis,  the  MS.  of  which  was  identified  after 
the  publication  of  his  work. 


LIST   OF   CONTENTS 

CBAPTIB  PAGB 

I.  The  Present  Functions  op  Criticism       .  13 

II.  English  Literature  at  the  Universities. 

Part  1 45 

III.  English  Literature  at  the  Universities 

Part  II 76 

IV.  English  Literature  at  the  Universities. 

Part  III 84 

V.  OuB  Literary  Guides.    Part  I.  .  .93 

VI.  Our  Literary  Guides.    Part  II.         .       .  110 

VII.  LOG-ROLLINO  AND  EDUCATION  ....  133 

VIII.  Our  Literary  Guides.    Part  III.        .       .  145 

IX.  The  New  Criticism 151 

9 


LIST   OF  CONTENTS 

X.  The  Gentle  Art  of  Sblf-Advebtisement    158 
XI.  R.  L.  Stevenson's  Letters    .       .  '165 

XII.  Literart  Iconoclasm 172 

XIII.  William  Dunbar 183 

XIV.  A  Gallop  Through  English  Literature  193 
XV.  De  Quincey  and  His  Friends     ...    203 

XVI.  Lee's  Life  of  Shakespeare.       .       .       .211 

XVII.  Shakespeare's  Sonnets       .       .       .       .219 

XVIII.  Landscape  in  Poetry  ....    236 

XIX.  An    Appreciation    of    Francis    Turner 

Palgrave 250 

XX.  Ancient  Greek  and  Modern  Life    .       .    255 

XXI.  The  Principles  of  Criticism      .       .       .270 

XXII.  Women  in  Greek  Poetry    ....    283 

XXIII.  Mr.  Stephen  Phillips'  Poems     .       .       .    294 

XXIV.  The  Illustrious  Obscure    ....    301 

10 


LIST   OF  CONTENTS 

CRiiPTER  rj,a» 

XXV.  Virgil  in  English  Hexameters        .       .    308 


XXVI.  The  Latest  Edition  op  Thomson      .       .    318 

XXVII.  Catullus  and  Lesbia 335 

XXVIII.  The  Religion  of  Shakespeare  .       .       .    351 


11 


THE   PRESENT  FUNCTIONS  OF 
CRITICISM 

IT  may  sound  paradoxical  to  say  that  the  more 
widely  education  spreads,  the  more  gener- 
ally intelligent  a  nation  becomes,  the  greater  is 
the  danger  to  which  Art  and  Letters  are  ex- 
posed. And  yet  how  obviously  is  this  the  case, 
and  how  easily  is  this  explained.  The  quality 
of  skilled  work  depends  mainly  on  the  standard 
required  of  the  workman.  If  his  judges  and— 
patrons  belong  to  the  discerning  few  who, 
knowing  what  is  excellent,  are  intolerant  of 
everything  which  falls  short  of  excellence,  the 
standard  required  will  necessarily  be  a  high  one, 
and  the  standard  required  will  be  the  standard 
attained.  In  past  times,  for  example,  the  only 
men  of  letters  who  were  respected  formed  a 
portion  of  that  highly  cultivated  class  who  will 
always  be  in  the  minority ;  and  to  that  class, 
and  to  that  class  only,  they  appealed.  A  com- 
munity within  a  community,  they  regarded  the 
general  public  with  as  much  indifference  as  the 
general  public  regarded  them,  and  wrote  only 
for  themselves,  and  for  those  who  stood  on  the 
same  intellectual  level  as   themselves.     It  was 

13 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

so  in  the  Athens  of  Pericles ;  it  was  so  in  the 
Rome  of  Augustus ;  it  was  so  in  the  Florence 
of  the  Medici ;  and  a  striking  example  of  the 
same  thing  is  to  be  found  in  our  own  Eliza- 
bethan Dramatists.  Though  their  bread  de- 
pended on  the  brutal  and  illiterate  savages  for 
whose  amusement  they  catered,  they  still  talked 
the  language  of  scholars  and  poets,  and  forced 
their  rude  hearers  to  sit  out  works  which  could 
have  been  intelligible  only  to  scholars  and  poets. 
Each  felt  with  pride  that  he  belonged  to  a  great 
guild,  which  neither  had,  nor  affected  to  have, 
anything  in  common  with  the  multitude.  Each 
strove  only  for  the  applause  of  those  whose 
praise  is  not  lightly  given.  Each  spurred  the 
other  on.  When  Marlowe  worked,  he  worked 
with  the  fear  of  Greene  before  his  eyes,  as 
Shakespeare  was  put  on  his  mettle  by  Jonson, 
and  Jonson  by  Shakespeare.  We  owe  Hamlet 
and  Sejanus,  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  and  the 
Alchemist,  not  to  men  who  bid  only  for  the 
suffrage  of  the  mob,  but  to  men  who  stood  in 
awe  of  the  verdict  which  would  be  passed  on 
them  by  the  company  assembled  at  the  Mermaid 
and  the  Devil. 

As  long  as  men  of  letters  continue  to  form 
an  intellectual  aristocracy,  and,  stimulated  by 
mutual  rivalry,  strain  every  nerve  to  excel,  and 
as  long  also  as  they  have  no  temptation  to 
pander  to  the  crowd,  so  long  will  Literature 
maintain  its  dignity,  and  so  long  will  the  stan- 

14 


OP    CRITICISM 

dard  attained  in  Literature  be  a  high  one.  In 
the  days  of  Dryden  and  Pope,  in  the  days  even 
of  Johnson  and  Gibbon,  the  greater  part  of 
the  general  public  either  read  nothing,  or  read 
nothing  but  politics  and  sermons.  The  few 
who  were  interested  in  Poetry,  in  Criticism, 
in  History,  were,  as  a  rule,  those  who  had 
received  a  learned  education,  men  of  highly 
cultivated  tastes  and  of  considerable  attain- 
ments. A  writer,  therefore,  who  aspired  to 
contribute  to  polite  literature,  had  to  choose 
between  finding  no  readers  at  all,  and  finding 
such  readers  as  he  was  bound  to  respect — be- 
tween instant  oblivion,  and  satisfying  a  class 
which,  composed  of  scholars,  would  have  turned 
with  contempt  from  writings  unworthy  of 
scholars.  A  classical  style,  a  refined  tone,  and 
an  adequate  acquaintance  with  the  chief  au- 
thors of  Ancient  Rome  and  of  Modern  France, 
were  requisites,  without  which  even  a  periodical 
essayist  would  have  had  small  hope  of  obtaining 
a  hearing.  Whoever  will  turn,  we  do  not  say 
to  the  papers  of  Addison  and  his  circle  in  the 
early  part  of  the  last  century,  or  to  those  of 
Chesterfield  and  his  circle  later  on,  but  to  the 
average  critical  work  of  Cave's  and  Dodsley's 
hack  writers,  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  its 
remarkable  merit  in  point  of  literary  execution. 
But  as  education  spreads,  a  very  different 
class  of  readers  call  into  being  a  very  different 
class  of  writers.     Men  and  women  begin  to  seek 

15 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

in  books  the  amusement  or  excitement  which 
they  sought  formerly  in  social  dissipation.  To 
the  old  public  of  scholars  succeeds  a  public,  in 
which  every  section  of  society  has  its  repre- 
sentatives, and  to  provide  this  vast  body  with 
the  sort  of  reading  which  is  acceptable  to  it, 
becomes  a  thriving  and  lucrative  calling.  An 
immense  literature  springs  up,  which  has  no 
other  object  than  to  catch  the  popular  ear,  and 
no  higher  aim  than  to  please  for  the  moment. 
That  perpetual  craving  for  novelty,  which  has 
in  all  ages  been  characteristic  of  the  multitude, 
necessitates  in  authors  of  this  class  a  corre- 
sponding rapidity  of  production.  The  writer  of 
a  single  good  book  is  soon  forgotten  by  his 
contemporaries ;  but  the  writer  of  a  series  of 
bad  books  is  sure  of  reputation  and  emolument. 
Indeed,  a  good  book  and  a  bad  book  stand, 
so  far  as  the  general  public  is  concerned,  on 
precisely  the  same  level,  as  they  meet  with 
precisely  the  same  fate.  Each  presents  the 
attraction  of  a  new  title-page.  Each  is  glanced 
through,  and  tossed  aside.  Each  is  estimated 
not  by  its  intrinsic  worth,  but  according  to  the 
skill  with  which  it  has  been  puffed.  Till  within 
comparatively  recent  times  this  literature  was. 
for  the  most  part,  represented  by  novels  and 
poems,  and  by  those  light  and  desultory  essays, 
sketches  and  ana,  which  are  the  staple  com- 
modity of  our  magazines.  And  so  long  as  it 
confined   itself   within   these   bounds  it  did  no 

16 


OF    CRITICISM 

mischief,  and  even  some  good.  Flimsy  and 
superficial  though  it  was,  it  had  at  least  the 
merit  of  interesting  thousands  in  Art  and  Let- 
ters, who  would  otherwise  have  been  indifferent 
to  them.  It  afforded  nutriment  to  minds  which 
would  have  rejected  more  solid  fare.  To  men 
of  business  and  pleasure  who,  though  no  longer 
students,  still  retained  the  tincture  of  early- 
culture,  it  offered  the  most  agreeable  of  all 
methods  of  killing  time,  while  scholars  found 
in  it  welcome  relaxation  from  severer  studies. 
It  thus  supplied  a  want.  Presenting  attractions 
not  to  one  class  only,  but  to  all  classes,  it  grew 
on  the  world.  Its  patrons,  who  half  a  century 
ago  numbered  thousands,  now  number  millions. 

And  as  it  has  grown  in  favour,  it  has  grown 
in  ambition.  It  is  no  longer  satisfied  with  the 
humble  province  which  it  once  held,  but  is  ex- 
tending its  dominion  in  all  directions.  It  has 
its  representatives  in  every  department  of  Art 
and  Letters.  It  has  its  poets,  its  critics,  its 
philosophers,  its  historians.  It  crowds  not  our 
club-tables  and  news-stalls  only,  but  our  libra- 
ries. Thus  what  was  originally  a  mere  excres- 
cence on  literature,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
term,  has  now  assumed  proportions  so  gigantic, 
that  it  has  not  merely  overshadowed  that  litera- 
ture, but  threatens  to  supersede  it. 

No  thoughtful  man  can  contemplate  the  pre- 
sent condition  of  current  literature  without 
disgust    and    alarm.      We    have    still,    indeed, 

B.O.  17  B 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

lingering  among  us  a  few  masters  whose  works 
would  have  been  an  honour  to  any  age  ;  and 
here  and  there  among  writers  may  be  discerned 
men  who  are  honourably  distinguished  by  a 
conscientious  desire  to  excel,  men  who  respect 
themselves,  and  respect  their  calling.  But  to 
say  that  these  are  in  the  minority,  would  be  to 
give  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  the  proportion 
which  their  numbers  bear  to  those  who  figure 
most  prominently  before  the  public.  They  are, 
in  truth,  as  tens  are  to  myriads.  Their  com- 
parative insignificance  is  such,  that  they  are 
powerless  even  to  leaven  the  mass.  The  posi- 
tion which  they  would  have  occupied  half  a 
century  ago,  and  which  they  may  possibly 
occupy  half  a  century  hence,  is  now  usurped  by 
a  herd  of  scribblers  who  have  succeeded,  partly 
by  sheer  force  of  numbers,  and  partly  by  judi- 
cious co-operation,  in  all  but  dominating  litera- 
ture. Scarcely  a  day  passes  in  which  some  book 
is  not  hurried  into  the  world,  which  owes  its 
existence  not  to  any  desire  on  the  part  of  its 
author  to  add  to  the  stores  of  useful  literature, 
or  even  to  a  hope  of  obtaining  money,  but 
simply  to  that  paltry  vanity  which  thrives  on 
the  sort  of  homage  of  which  society  of  a  certain 
kind  is  not  grudging,  and  which  knows  no  dis- 
tinction between  notoriety  and  fame.  A  few 
years  ago  a  man  who  contributed  articles  to  a 
current  periodical,  or  who  delivered  a  course  of 
lectures,  had,  as  a  rule,  the  good  sense  to  know 

18 


OF    CRITICISM 

that  when  they  had  fulfiQled  the  purpose  for 
which  they  were  originally  intended,  the  world 
had  no  more  concern  with  them,  and  he  would 
as  soon  have  thought  of  inflicting  them  in  the 
shape  of  a  volume  on  the  public,  as  he  would 
have  thought  of  issuing  an  edition  of  his  private 
letters  to  his  friends.  Now  all  is  changed.  The 
first  article  in  the  creed  of  a  person  who  has 
figured  in  either  of  these  capacities,  appears  to 
be,  that  he  is  bound  to  force  himself  into  notice 
in  the  character  of  an  author.  And  this,  hap- 
pily for  himself,  but  unhappily  for  the  interests 
of  literature,  he  is  able  to  do  with  perfect 
facility  and  with  perfect  impunity.  Books  are 
speedily  manufactured  and  as  speedily  reduced 
to  pulp.  A  worthless  book  may  be  as  easily 
invested  with  those  superficial  attractions  which 
catch  the  eye  of  the  crowd  as  a  meritorious  one. 
As  the  general  public  are  the  willing  dupes  of 
puffers,  it  is  no  more  difficult  to  palm  off  on 
them  the  spurious  wares  of  literary  charlatans, 
than  it  is  to  beguile  them  into  purchasing  the 
wares  of  any  other  kind  of  charlatan.  No  one 
is  interested  in  telling  them  the  truth.  Many, 
on  the  contrary,  are  interested  in  deceiving 
them.  As  a  rule,  the  men  who  write  bad  books 
are  the  men  who  criticise  bad  books ;  and  as 
they  know  that  what  they  mete  out  in  their 
capacity  of  judges  to-day  is  what  will  in  turn 
be  meted  out  to  them  in  their  capacity  of 
authors    to-morrow,   it   is   not   surprising   that 

19 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

the  relations  between  them  should  be  similar 
to  those  which  Tacitus  tells  us  existed  between 
Vinius  and  Tigellinus — "nulla  innocentise  cura, 
sed  vices  impunitatis." 

Meanwhile  all  those  vile  arts  which  were 
formerly  confined  to  the  circulators  of  bad 
novels  and  bad  poems  are  practised  without 
shame.  It  is  shocking,  it  is  disgusting  to  con- 
template the  devices  to  which  many  men  of 
letters  will  stoop  for  the  sake  of  exalting  them- 
selves into  a  factitious  reputation.  They  will 
form  cliques  for  the  purpose  of  mutual  puffery. 
They  will  descend  to  the  basest  methods  of  self- 
advertisement.  And  the  evil  is  fast-spreading. 
Indeed,  things  have  come  to  such  a  pass,  that 
persons  of  real  merit,  if  they  have  the  misfor- 
tune to  depend  on  their  pens  for  a  livelihood, 
must  either  submit  to  be  elbowed  and  jostled 
out  of  the  field,  or  take  part  in  the  same  ignoble 
scramble  for  notoriety,  and  the  same  detestable 
system  of  mutual  puffery.  Thus  everything 
which  formerly  tended  to  raise  the  standard  of 
literary  ambition  and  literary  attainment  has 
given  place  to  everything  which  tends  to  degrade 
it.  The  multitude  now  stand  where  the  scholar 
once  stood.  From  the  multitude  emanate,  to 
the  multitude  are  addressed  two-thirds  of  the 
publications  which  pour  forth,  every  year,  from 
our  presses. 

Viviamo  scorti 
Da  mediocrita :   sceso  il  sapiente, 
20 


OF    CRITICISM 

E  salita  6  la  turba  a  un  sol  confine 
Che  il  mondo  agguaglia. 

Matthew  Arnold  very  truly  observed,  that  one  of 
the  most  unfortunate  tendencies  of  our  time  was 
the  tendency  to  over-estimate  the  performances 
of  "  the  average  man."  The  over-estimation  of 
these  performances  is  no  longer  a  tendency,  but 
an  established  custom.  Literature,  in  all  its 
branches,  is  rapidly  becoming  his  monopoly. 
As  judged  and  judge,  as  author  and  critic, 
there  is  every  indication  that  he  will  proceed 
from  triumph  to  triumph,  and  establish  his 
cult  wherever  books  are  read.  Now  the  only 
sphere  in  which  "  the  average  man  "  is  entitled 
to  homage  is  a  moral  one,  and  he  is  most  vener- 
able when  he  is  passive  and  unambitious.  But 
if  ambition  and  the  love  of  fame  are  awakened 
in  him,  he  is  capable  of  becoming  exceedingly 
corrupt  and  of  forfeiting  every  title  to  venera- 
tion. He  is  capable  of  resorting  to  all  the 
devices  to  which  men  are  forced  to  resort  in 
manufacturing  factitious  reputations,  to  impos- 
ture, to  fraud,  to  circulating  false  currencies  of 
his  own,  and  to  assisting  others  in  the  circula- 
tion of  theirs.  Even  when  he  is  free  from  these 
vices,  so  far  as  their  deliberate  practice  is  con- 
cerned, he  is  scarcely  less  mischievous,  if  he  be 
uncontrolled.  To  say  that  his  standard  is  never 
likely  to  be  a  high  one,  either  with  reference  to 
his  own  achievements  or  with  reference  to  what 
he   exacts   from   others,  and    to   say   that    the 

21 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

systematic  substitution  of  inferior  standards  for 
high  ones  must  affect  literature  and  all  that 
is  involved  in  its  influence,  most  disastrously, 
is  to  say  what  will  be  generally  acknowledged. 
And  he  has  everything,  unhappily,  in  his  favour 
— numbers,  influence,  the  spirit  of  the  age. 
For  one  who  sees  through  him  and  takes 
his  measure,  there  are  thousands  who  do  not : 
for  one  who  could  discern  the  justice  of  an 
exposure  of  his  shortcomings,  there  are  thou- 
sands who  would  attribute  that  exposure  to 
personal  enmity  and  to  dishonest  motives.  His 
power,  indeed,  is  becoming  almost  irresistible. 
The  one  thing  which  he  and  his  fellows 
thoroughly  understand  is  the  formidable  advan- 
tage of  co-operation.  The  consequence  is  that 
there  are  probably  not  half  a  dozen  reviews 
and  newspapers  now  left  which  they  are  not 
able  practically  to  coerce.  An  editor  is  obliged 
to  assume  honesty  in  those  who  contribute  to 
his  columns,  and  also  to  avail  himself  of  the 
services  of  men  who  can  write  good  articles,  if 
they  write  bad  books.  In  the  first  case,  it  is 
not  open  to  him  to  question  the  justice  of  the 
verdict  pronounced ;  in  the  second  case,  the 
courtesy  of  the  gentleman  very  naturally  and 
properly  predominates,  under  such  circum- 
stances, over  public  considerations — and  how 
can  truth  bo  told  ?  Nor  is  this  all.  Assuming 
that  an  editor  is  free  from  such  ties,  he  has 
to  consult  the  interests  of  his  paper,  to  study 

22 


OF    CRITICISM 

popularity,  and  not  to  estrange  those  who  are, 
from  a  commercial  point  of  view,  the  main- 
stays of  all  our  literary  journals,  those  who 
advertise  in  them, — the  publishers.  "K,"  said 
an  editor  to  me  once,  "  I  were  to  tell  the 
truth,  as  forcibly  as  I  could  wish  to  do,  about 
the  books  sent  to  me  for  review,  in  six  months 
my  proprietors  would  be  in  the  bankruptcy 
court."  It  is  in  the  power  of  the  publishers  to 
ruin  any  literary  journal.  There  is  probably 
not  a  single  Review  in  London  which  would 
survive  the  withdrawal  of  the  publishers'  ad- 
vertisements. 

A  more  honourable  class  of  men  than  those  who 
form  the  majority  of  the  London  publishers  does 
not  exist,  nor  have  the  interests  of  Literature, 
as  distinguished  from  commercial  interests,  ever 
found  heartier  and  more  ungrudging  support, 
than  they  have  long  found  in  three  or  four  of 
the  leading  firms,  and  as  they  are  now  finding  in 
two  or  three  of  the  firms  which  have  been  more 
recently  established.  But,  unhappily,  this  is  not 
everywhere  the  case.  While  the  firms,  to  which  I 
have  referred,  have  never,  in  anyw^ay,  attempted 
to  interfere  with  the  independence  of  reviewers, 
others  have  made  no  secret  of  their  intention  to 
make  their  patronage  in  advertisement  depen- 
dent on  favourable  notices  of  their  publications. 
The  strain  of  temptation  and  peril  to  which 
editors  are  thus  exposed  may  be  estimated  by 
the  fact  that,  a  flattering  review  may,  if  sup- 

23 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

plemented  by  similar  ones,  put  some  three  hun- 
dred a  year  into  the  pockets  of  their  proprietors, 
while  severity  and  justice  would  involve  a  cor- 
responding loss.  It  need  hardly  be  said  that  no 
editor  of  a  respectable  review  would  allow  any 
definite  understanding  of  this  kind  to  exist,  or 
that  any  publisher  would  ever  dare  to  suggest 
it,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  such  con- 
siderations have  to  be  taken  into  account  almost 
universally,  and  place  serious  restraint  on  free- 
dom of  judgment. 

There  is,  it  is  true,  another  aspect  of  this 
question.  Publishers  must  protect  themselves. 
Though  reviews  offend  much  more  frequently 
on  the  side  of  dishonest  and  interested  puffery, 
they  are  very  often  made  the  vehicles  of  equally 
unscrupulous  rancour  and  spite.  If  they  do 
their  readers  injustice,  by  attempting  to  foist 
hand  books  on  them,  they  do  every  one  concerned 
injustice,  by  damning  good  ones.  No  one  could 
blame  a  publisher  for  declining  to  support  a 
paper  which  was  continually  making  his  books 
the  subjects  of  unmerited  attacks.  But  a  pub- 
lisher who  attempts  to  prevent  the  truth  from 
being  told,  and  so  secures,  or  seeks  to  secure, 
currency  for  his  spurious  wares,  is  guilty  of  an 
act  which  borders  closely  on  fraud. 

Another  circumstance  very  favourable  to  the 
encouragement  of  inferiority,  and  not  of  in- 
feriority only,  but  of  charlatanism  and  im- 
posture, is  the   increasing    tendency   to    regard 

24 


OF  CRITICISM 

nothing  of  importance  compared  with  the  spirit 
of  tolerance  and  charity.  An  all-embracing 
philanthropy  exempts  nothing  from  its  protec- 
tion. Every  one  must  be  good-natured.  Severity, 
we  are  told,  is  quite  out  of  fashion.  Such  censors 
as  the  old  reviewers  are  now  mere  anachronisms. 
It  is  vain  to  plead  that  tolerance  and  charity 
must  discriminate  ;  that,  like  other  virtues,  they 
may  be  abused,  and  that  in  their  abuse  they 
may  become  immoral ;  that  there  are  higher 
considerations  than  the  feelings  of  individuals  ; 
and  that,  if  to  give  pain  or  annoyance  admits 
of  no  justification  but  necessity,  necessity  may 
exact  their  infliction  as  an  exigent  duty. 

But  this  spirit  of  tolerance  and  charity  has 
also  become  attenuated  into  the  spirit  of  mere 
laissez-faire.  We  have  no  lack  of  real  scholars 
and  of  real  critics,  who  see  through  the  whole 
thing,  and  probably  deplore  it ;  but  they  make 
no  sign,  look  on  with  a  sort  of  amused  per- 
plexity, and  do  their  own  work,  thankful,  no 
doubt,  sometimes,  when  it  is  oppressive,  that 
they  need  not  be  over -scrupulous  about  its 
quality.  If,  occasionally,  they  get  a  little  im- 
patient and  indulge  their  genius,  protest  goes 
no  further  than  sarcasm  and  irony,  so  fine  that 
it  is  intelligible  only  among  themselves  ;  while 
the  objects  of  their  satire,  as  well  as  the  general 
public,  missing  the  one  and  misinterpreting  the 
other,  take  it  all  for  applause.  Resistance,  it  is 
said,  is  useless.     Literature  is  a  trade.     What 

25 


THE   PRESENT   FUNCTIONS 

has  come  was  inevitable  :  vive  la  bagatelle,  and 
drift  with  the  stream. 

And  now  let  us  consider  what  are  the  results 
of  all  this.  The  first  and  most  important  is  the 
degradation  of  criticism.  Criticism  is  to  Litera- 
ture what  legislation  and  government  are  to 
States.  If  they  are  in  able  and  honest  hands 
all  goes  well ;  if  they  are  in  weak  and  dishonest 
hands  all  is  anarchy  and  mischief.  And  as 
government  in  a  Republic,  the  true  analogy  to 
the  sphere  of  which  we  are  speaking,  is  re- 
presented not  by  those  who  form  the  minority 
in  its  councils,  but  by  those  who  form  the  ma- 
jority, so  in  criticism,  it  is  not  on  the  few  but 
on  the  many  among  those  who  represent  it,  that 
its  authority  and  influence  depend.  And  what 
are  its  characteristics  in  the  hands  of  its  prevail- 
ing majority — in  the  hands  of  those  who  are 
its  legislators  in  a  realm  co-extensive  with  the 
reading  world?  It  is  not  criticism  at  all.  To 
criticism,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term,  it  has  no 
claim  even  to  approximation.  It  seems  to  have 
resolved  itself  into  something  which  wants  a 
name, —  something  which  is  partly  dithyramb 
and  partly  rhetoric.  Without  standards,  without 
touchstones,  without  principles,  without  know- 
ledge, it  appears  to  be  regarded  as  the  one  calling 
for  which  no  equipment  and  no  training  are 
needed.  What  a  master  of  the  art  has  called  the 
final  fruit  of  careful  discipline  and  of  much  ex- 
perience is  assumed  to  come  spontaneously.     A 

26 


OF    CRITICISM 

man  of  literary  tastes  is  born  cultured.  A  critic, 
like  a  poet,  is  the  pure  product  of  nature.  Such 
canons  as  these  "critics"  have  are  the  mysterious 
and  somewhat  perplexing  evolutions  of  their 
own  inner  consciousness,  or  derived,  not  from 
the  study  of  classical  writers  in  English  or  in 
any  other  language,  of  all  of  whom  they  are 
probably  profoundly  ignorant,  but  from  a 
current  acquaintance  with  the  writings  of  con- 
temporaries, who  are,  in  intelligence  and  per- 
formance, a  little  in  advance  of  themselves. 
But  what  they  lack  in  attainments  they  make 
up  in  impudence.  The  effrontery  of  some  of 
these  "  critics,"  whose  verdicts,  ludicrous  to 
relate,  are  daily  recorded  as  "  opinions  of  the 
Press,"  literally  exceeds  belief.  They  will  sit  in 
judgment  on  books  written  in  languages  of 
whose  very  alphabets  they  are  ignorant.  They 
will  pose  as  authorities  and  pronounce  ex 
cathedrd  on  subjects  literary,  historical,  and 
scientific  of  which  they  know  nothing  more 
than  what  they  have  contrived  to  pick  up  from 
the  works  which  they  are  "reviewing."  Their 
estimates  of  the  books,  on  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  which  they  undertake  to  enlighten 
the  public,  correspond  with  their  qualifications 
for  forming  them.  Books  displaying  in  their 
writers  the  grossest  ignorance  of  the  very 
rudiments  of  the  subjects  treated,  and  literally 
swarming  with  blunders  and  absurdities,  all  of 
which  pass  undetected  and  unnoticed,  are  made 

27 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

the  subjects  of  elaborate  panegyrics,  which 
would  need  some  qualification  if  applied  to  the 
very  classics  in  the  subjects  under  discussion. 
Books,  on  the  other  hand,  of  unusual  and 
distinguished  merit  are  despatched  summarily 
in  a  few  lines  of  equally  undeserved  depreciation  ; 
books  written  in  the  worst  taste  and  in  the  vilest 
style  are  pronounced  to  be  models  of  both. 
Sobriety,  measure,  and  discrimination  have  no 
place  either  in  the  creed  or  in  the  practice  of 
these  writers.  They  think  in  superlatives  ;  they 
express  themselves  in  superlatives.  It  never 
seems  to  occur  to  them  that  if  criticism  has  to 
reckon  with  Mr.  Le  Gallienne  it  has  also  to  reckon 
with  Shakespeare ;  that  if  it  has  to  take  the 
measure  of  Mr.  Hall  Caine,  it  has  likewise  to 
take  the  measure  of  Cervantes  and  Fielding,  and 
that  of  some  dozen  prose  writers  and  poets,  it 
cannot  be  pronounced,  at  the  same  time  of  each, 
that  he  is  "  the  greatest  living  master  of  English 
prose,"  or  "  without  parallel  for  his  superlative 
command  of  all  the  resources  of  rhythmical 
expression."  There  is  one  accomplishment  in 
which  these  critics  are  particularly  adroit,  and 
that  is  in  keeping  out  of  controversy,  and  so 
avoiding  all  chance  of  being  called  to  account. 
For  this  reason  they  deal  more  in  eulogy  than 
in  censure,  for  the  public  is  less  likely  to 
complain  of  a  bad  book  being  foisted  on  them 
for  a  good  one,  than  its  irate  author  to  sit  silent 
under  reproof. 

28 


OF    CRITICISM 

If  we  go  a  little  higher,  things  are  almost  as 
bad,  if  not  quite  so  ridiculous.  In  everything  but 
in  criticism  it  is  necessary  to  specialize.  A  man 
who  posed  as  an  authority  on  all  the  literatures 
of  the  world,  and  on  the  history  of  every  nation 
in  the  world,  would  be  very  justly  set  down  as 
an  impostor.  And  yet  pretentions  which  men 
would  be  the  first  to  ridicule,  as  private  in- 
dividuals, they  do  not  scruple  to  claim,  as  critics. 
An  historical  student  enriches  History  with  a 
volume  throwing  new  and  important  light  on 
some  obscure  episode  or  period ;  a  classical 
student  deserves  the  gratitude  of  scholars  for  an 
invaluable  monograph ;  English  Literature  or  one 
of  the  Continental  Literatures  is  illustrated  by  a 
series  of  dissertations  as  instructive  as  they  are 
original ;  or  a  truly  memorable  contribution  has 
been  made  to  political  philosophy,  to  aesthetics, 
or  to  ethics.  What  is  their  fate  ?  It  is  by  no 
means  improbable  that  they  will  be  •  reviewed,'  in 
the  course  of  a  few  days,  by  the  same  man  for 
three  or  four,  or  it  may  be  for  five  or  six,  daily  and 
weekly  journals,  and  their  fortune  in  the  market 
made  or  marred  by  a  censor  who  has  probably 
done  no  more  than  glance  at  their  half-cut  pages, 
and  who,  if  he  had  studied  them  from  end  to 
end,  would  have  been  no  more  competent  to  take 
their  measure  than  he  would  have  been  to  write 
them.  This  leads,  it  is  needless  to  say,  to  every 
kind  of  abuse  :  to  works  which  deserve  to  be 
authorities  on  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat 

29 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

dropping  at  once  into  oblivion,  to  works  which 
every  scholar  knows  to  be  below  contempt 
usurping  their  places  ;  to  the  deprivation  of  all 
stimulus  to  honourable  exertion  on  the  part 
of  authors  of  ability  and  industry ;  to  the  en- 
couragement of  charlatans  and  fribbles ;  to 
gross  impositions  on  the  public.  A  very  amus- 
ing and  edifying  record  might  be  compiled 
partly  out  of  a  selection  of  the  various  verdicts 
passed  contemporaneously  by  reviews  on  par- 
ticular works,  and  partly  out  of  comparisons  of 
the  subsequent  fortunes  of  works  with  their 
fortunes  while  submitted  to  this  censorship. 

But  it  is  not  these  causes  only  which  con- 
tribute to  the  degradation  of  criticism.  A  very 
important  factor  is  the  prevalence,  or  rather  the 
predominance,  of  mere  prejudice,  the  prejudice 
of  cliques  in  favour  of  cliques,  the  prejudice  of 
cliques  against  cliques,  the  prejudice  of  the 
veteran  against  or  in  favour  of  the  novice,  the 
subsequent  compensation,  in  corresponding  pre- 
judice on  the  part  of  the  novice,  when  his 
novitiate  is  over.  The  two  things  which  never 
seem  to  be  considered  are  the  interests  of  Litera- 
ture and  the  interests  of  the  public.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  work  by  the  member  of  a  particular 
coterie  is  the  signal,  on  the  one  hand,  for  a  series 
of  preposterously  intemperate  eulogies,  and  for 
a  series,  on  the  other  hand,  of  equally  intemperate 
depreciations,  in  such  organs  as  are  accessible  to 
both  parties.     If  a  work,  with  any  pretension  to 

30 


OF    CRITICISM 

originality,  by  a  previously  unknown  author 
makes  its  appearance,  it  is  pretty  sure  to  fare 
in  one  of  three  ways :  it  will  scarcely  be  noticed 
at  all ;  it  will  be  made  the  theme  of  a  philippic 
against  innovating  eccentricities  and  new- 
fangled notions ;  or  it  will  fall  into  the  hands 
of  a  critic  who  is  on  the  look-out  for  a  "  dis- 
covery." Its  fortune,  so  far  as  notoriety  is  con- 
cerned, will,  in  that  case,  be  made.  The  critic, 
thus  on  his  mettle  and  with  his  character  for  dis- 
cernment at  stake,  will  not  only  become  propor- 
tionately vociferous  but  will  rally  his  equally 
vociferous  partisans.  Hyperbole  will  be  heaped 
on  hyperbole,  rodomontade  on  rodomontade, 
till  real  merit  will  be  made  ridiculous,  and 
the  unhappy  author  awake  at  last,  to  assume 
his  true  proportions,  in  a  Fool's  Paradise. 

And  to  this  pass  has  criticism  come,  and 
Literature  generally,  in  almost  all  its  branches, 
is  necessarily  following  suit.  It  would  be  no  ex- 
aggeration to  say,  that  the  sole  encouragement 
now  left  to  authors  to  produce  good  books  is 
the  satisfaction  of  their  own  conscience,  and  the 
approbation  of  a  few  discerning  judges ;  and 
this  attained,  they  must  starve  if  their  bread 
depends  upon  their  pen.  It  is  not  that  a  good 
book  will  not  be  praised,  but  that  bad  books 
are  praised  still  more ;  it  is  not  that  it  will  fail 
to  find  fair  and  competent  reviewers,  but  that 
for  one  fair  and  competent  reviewer  it  will  find 
fifty  who  are  unfair  and  incompetent.     It  is  on 

31 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

its  acceptance,  not  with  the  few  who  can  esti- 
mate its  merits,  but  with  the  many  who  take 
that  estimate  on  trust  from  judges,  whose  com- 
petence or  incompetence  they  are  equally  unable 
to  gauge,  that  the  possibility  of  a  book  yielding 
any  return  to  its  author  depends.  The  public 
neither  can  nor  will  distinguish.  A  book  which 
has  two  or  three  favourable  press  notices  which 
are  merited  cannot  stand  against  a  book  having 
twenty  or  thirty  which  are  unmerited.  Nor  is 
this  all.  Measured  and  discriminating  eulogy, 
which  means  precisely  what  it  expresses,  and 
which  is  always  the  note  of  sound  and  just 
criticism,  is  to  the  uninitiated  poor  recommen- 
dation compared  with  that  which  has  no  limita- 
tion but  extremes.  How  can  the  still  small 
voice  of  truth  expect  to  get  a  hearing  amid  a 
bellowing  Babel  of  its  undistinguishable  mimic  ? 
What  inducement  has  an  author  to  aim  at  excel- 
lence, to  spend  three  or  four  years  on  a  mono- 
graph or  a  history  that  it  may  be  sold  for  waste 
paper,  when  some  miserable  compilation,  vamped 
up  in  as  many  weeks,  will,  with  a  little  manage- 
ment, give  him  notoriety  and  fill  his  purse? 
There  is  not  a  scholar,  not  a  discerning  reader  in 
England  who  will  not  bear  me  witness  when  I  say 
that,  as  a  rule,  the  best  books  produced  in  Belles 
Lettres  are  those  of  which  the  general  public 
knows  nothing,  and  that  he  has  been  guided 
to  them  sometimes  by  pure  accident,  and  some- 
times, it  may  be,  by  a  depreciatory  notice  or  curt 

32 


OF    CRITICISM 

paragraph  in  "  our  library  table  "  limbo.  And 
what  does  this  mean?  It  means  that  a  writer 
has  discovered  that  it  is  impossible  for  him  to 
have  a  conscience,  or  aim  at  an  honourable  repu- 
tation, unless  he  can  afford  to  lose  money.  It 
means  more ;  it  means  that  publishers  are 
obliged  to  discourage  the  production  of  solid  and 
scholarly  works.  It  is  notorious  that  the  Dele- 
gates of  the  Clarendon  Press  at  Oxford,  and  one 
or  two  firms  in  London,  having  regard  to  the 
honourable  traditions  of  their  predecessors,  have 
wished  to  maintain  those  traditions  by  en- 
couraging the  production  of  such  works,  and 
have,  at  a  great  pecuniary  loss,  persevered  in 
this  ambition.  But  no  publisher  can  continue 
to  multiply  books  which  do  not  pay  their 
expenses,  and  whose  sale  begins  and  ends  in 
the  remainder  market. 

This  state  of  things  is  the  more  deplorable 
when  we  consider  its  effect,  not  merely  in  de- 
grading and  corrupting  Literature  on  its  pro- 
ductive side,  but  in  detracting  so  seriously  from 
its  efficacy  on  its  influential  side.  During  the 
last  few  years  the  rapid  spread  of  higher 
education,  the  popularization  of  liberal  culture 
through  such  agencies  as  the  University  Ex- 
tension Lectures,  the  National  Home  Reading 
Union  and  similar  institutions  have  called  into 
being  an  immense  and  constantly  multiplying 
class  of  serious  readers  and  students.  These 
already   number   tens   of   thousands,   they   will 

B.C.  33  c 


THE    PRESENT    FUNCTIONS 

before  long  number  hundreds  of  thousands. 
Now  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  these 
readers,  who  are  quite  prepared  to  appreciate 
what  is  excellent,  should  be  guided  to  what  is 
excellent,  and  discouraged  in  every  way  from 
conversing  with  what  is  bad  and  inferior  in 
Literature.  But  how  is  this  to  be  done  when 
those  who  are  striving,  in  every  way,  to  raise 
the  standard  of  popular  taste  and  of  popular 
culture,  as  teachers,  find  all  their  efforts  counter- 
acted by  the  intense  activity  of  those  who  are 
doing  their  utmost  to  degrade  both,  as  writers. 
It  is  only  those  engaged  in  education,  and  more 
particularly  in  popular  education,  who  can  under- 
stand the  extent  of  the  mischief  which  book- 
makers and  the  puffers  of  bookmakers  are 
doing,  who  can  understand  the  tone,  the  taste, 
the  temper  induced  by  the  habitual  and  exclu- 
sive perusal  of  the  writings  characteristic  of 
these  pests, — the  inaccuracies  and  errors,  the 
misrepresentations  and  absurdities,  to  which 
these  writings  give  currency. 

In  the  days  of  our  forefathers,  a  reader  of 
literary  tastes,  if  he  wished  to  acquaint  himself 
with  an  English  classic,  went  to  the  fountain 
head  and  read  Spenser  or  Milton,  Pope  or 
Addison  for  himself.  If  he  desired  to  know 
what  criticism  had  said  about  them,  he  had 
criticism  of  authority  at  hand,  and  he  con- 
sulted it.  In  our  day  it  is  about  an  even 
chance    whether    the    ordinary    reader    would 

34 


OF    CRITICISM 

trouble  himself  to  turn  to  the  originals  or  not : 
he  would  probably  content  himself  with  the 
notices  of  them  in  some  current  manual  of 
English  Literature,  or  with  some  essay  or  mono- 
graph. Now,  in  the  myriads  of  such  publica- 
tions, in  vogue  or  out  of  vogue,  knocked  under 
by  their  successors  or  scuffling  with  their 
contemporaries,  he  might  have  the  luck  to 
light  on  a  good  guide  ;  he  might  have  the  luck 
to  light  on  Dean  Church,  or  Mark  Pattison,  or 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,  or  Professor  Courthope,  or 
Mr.  Frederic  Harrison  ;  but  he  is  much  more 
likely  to  make  his  way  to  a  luminary  in  the 
last  well-puffed  "  series."  The  first  article  in 
the  creed  of  the  modern  book-maker  seems 
to  be  that  the  appearance  or  existence  of  a 
good  book  is  a  sufficient  justification  for  the 
production  of  a  bad  one  to  take  its  place.  An 
excellent  monograph  is  published,  and  is  popu- 
lar. This  is  the  signal  for  the  manufacture  of 
half  a  dozen  inferior  ones,  which  are  mutually 
destructive,  and  serve  no  end  except  to  sub- 
stitute bad  books  for  a  good  one,  and  to  make 
the  good  one  forgotten.  Again,  a  work  which 
has  long  been  classical  in  criticism  is  assumed 
not  to  be  "  up  to  date,"  and  is  either  edited  on 
this  hypothesis,  or  we  have  another  substituted 
for  it.  This  in  turn  yields  its  vogue — for 
fashions  change  quickly  in  modern  taste — to  a 
similar  experiment,  till  a  third  is  announced.  Of 
the  relation  of  criticism  to  principles,  or  indeed 

86 


THE    PKESENT    FUNCTIONS 

to  anything  else  but  to  their  own  whims  or 
impressions,  these  iconoclasts  appear  to  be  pro- 
foundly unaware. 

It  requires,  needless  to  say,  the  utmost 
wariness  and  care  on  the  part  of  those  who 
regulate,  and  on  the  part  of  those  who  are  en- 
gaged in,  education,  to  keep  this  inferior  litera- 
ture in  its  place.  If  it  were  allowed  to  make  its 
way  authoritatively  into  our  schools  and  Uni- 
versities, or  indeed  into  any  of  our  educational 
institutions,  the  consequences  would  be  most 
disastrous.  It  is  not  so  much  that  it  would 
disseminate  error  as  that  it  would  become  in- 
fluential in  more  serious  ways,  aesthetically  in 
its  influence  on  taste,  morally  in  its  influence  on 
tone  and  character,  intellectually  in  lowering  the 
whole  standard  of  aim  and  attainment  in  studies. 

That  the  evils  which  have  been  described 
admit  of  no  remedy  at  present,  or  perhaps  in 
the  present  generation,  may  be  fully  conceded. 
But  they  may  be  palliated  if  they  cannot  be 
cured,  and  they  must  be  palliated  by  the  agents 
to  whom  we  may  ultimately  look  for  their  cure, 
education  and  fearless  criticism.  As  their  origin 
may  be  mainly  ascribed  to  the  failure  of  the 
Universities  to  adapt  themselves  to  new  con- 
ditions, so  on  the  willingness  of  the  Universities 
to  repair  their  error  must  depend  all  possibility 
of  rectifying  the  results  of  it.  From  its  organi- 
zation at  the  Universities  everything  compre- 
hended in  the  system  of  liberal  study  takes  its 

36 


OF    CRITICISM 

ply ;  its  standards  are  there  determined,  its 
methods  formulated,  its  aims  defined.  As  a 
subject  of  teaching,  and  as  the  result  of  teach- 
ing, in  its  relation  to  theory  and  in  its  relation 
to  practice,  it  there  receives  an  impression  which 
is  permanent.  It  has  been  so  with  classical 
scholarship,  and  with  Philology ;  it  has  been 
so  with  Philosophy  and  Theology,  with  Juris- 
prudence and  History.  What  has  been  im- 
parted in  the  lecture-rooms  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  has  orally,  and  by  the  pen,  become 
influential  wherever  these  subjects  are  repre- 
sented. There  is  not  an  educational  institute  in 
Great  Britain  or  in  the  colonies,  there  is  not  a 
serious  magazine  or  review  on  which  it  has  not 
set  its  seal.  We  have  a  striking  illustration  of 
this  in  the  case  of  Modern  History.  Some  thirty 
years  ago  it  was  practically  unrepresented, 
either  at  Oxford  or  Cambridge.  Since  then  its 
study  has  been  organized.  What  has  been  the 
result  ?  It  has  become  one  of  the  most  flourish- 
ing branches  of  learning.  It  has  reduced  chaos 
to  order ;  it  has  raised  its  teaching,  and  by 
implication  its  literature,  to  a  very  high  stan- 
dard ;  it  has  put  the  canaille  of  sciolists  and 
fribbles  into  their  proper  place  ;  while  disciplin- 
ing energy  it  has  directed  it  to  fruitful  objects  ; 
it  has  revolutionized  the  study  of  the  whole 
subject. 

Thus  the  condition  and  fortune  of  everything 
which  is  affected   by  education  depend  on  the 

37 


THE   PRESENT  FUNCTIONS 

Universities.  All  that  they  do,  or  neglect  to  do, 
passes  into  precedent.  There  is  nothing  sus- 
ceptible of  educational  impression  which  does 
not  take  its  colour  and  its  characteristics  from 
them.  They  have  made  the  subjects  which  are 
represented  in  their  schools  what  they  are,  and 
every  intelligent  English  citizen  proud  and 
grateful. 

But,  owing  to  a  disastrous  confusion  between 
two  branches  of  study  which  are  radically  and 
essentially  distinct, — Philology  and  Belles  Let- 
tres, — both  Oxford  and  Cambridge  have  not  only 
left  unorganized,  but  assisted  in  the  degradation 
of  studies,  which  are  of  as  much  concern,  and 
vital  concern,  to  national  life  as  any  which  are 
represented  in  their  Schools.  To  leave  an  im- 
portant department  of  education  unrecognised 
in  their  system,  is  sufficient  cause  for  surprise 
and  regret ;  but  that  they  should  be  doing  all  in 
their  power  to  prevent  any  possibility  of  such  a 
defect  being  supplied  is  deplorable.  And  yet 
this  is  what  is  being  done.  That  Chairs,  Schools 
and  Degrees  may  be  established  in  the  interests 
of  Philology,  Philology  is,  by  a  palpable  fiction, 
identified  with  Literature.  As  the  result  of  what 
the  late  Professor  Huxley  denounced  as  "  a  fraud 
upon  letters,"  a  Chair  founded  in  the  interests  of 
Literature  was  at  Oxford  appropriated  by  the 
philologists.  This  has  been  followed  by  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  School,  in  which  all  that  can 
provide  for  the  honour  of  Philology  is  blended 

38 


OF  CRITICISM 

with  all  that  contributes  to  the  degradation  of 
Literature ;  while,  to  give  further  currency  and 
authority  to  this  absurd  complication,  the  ap- 
proval of  a  thesis,  on  some  subject  pertaining 
purely  to  Philology,  entitles  the  writer  to  the 
diploma,  not  of  a  Doctor  in  Philology,  but  of  a 
Doctor  in  Literature  I 

Meanwhile,  to  make  confusion  worse  con- 
founded, the  Universities,  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  a  party  in  the  Universities,  are  un- 
dertaking to  provide  the  country  with  teachers 
for  the  dissemination  of  literary  culture, — for 
the  interpretation  of  Literature  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  term.  Whether  this  is  done  com- 
petently or  incompetently  depends,  of  course, 
and  must  depend  purely  on  accident,  on  the  wil- 
lingness and  ability,  that  is  to  say,  of  individual 
teachers  to  educate  themselves.  Common  stand- 
ards and  common  aims  they  have  none.  Each 
does  what  is  right  in  his  own  eyes.  As  some 
have  graduated  in  the  classical  schools,  some  in 
the  Mediaeval  and  Modern  Languages  Tripos, 
some  in  Modern  History,  some  in  Moral  Science 
or  Theology,  and  some  in  nothing,  there  is 
naturally  much  variety  in  their  methods  and 
aims. 

But  it  is  when  we  turn  to  the  works  in 
modem  Belles  Lettres,  and  more  particularly 
to  those  dealing  with  English  Literature,  which 
the  University  Presses  publish,  that  we  realize 
the  full  significance  of  this  anarchy.     It  would 

39 


THE   PRESENT   FUNCTIONS 

not  be  going  too  far  to  say,  that  all  which  is 
worst  in  current  literature,  when  at  its  worst 
finds  in  some  of  these  works  comprehensive 
illustration.  It  is  indeed  almost  an  even  chance 
whether  a  work  issuing  from  those  Presses  is 
excellent,  whether  it  is  indifferent,  or  whether 
it  is  executed  with  shameful  incompetence.^ 

All,  therefore,  so  far  as  Belles  Lettres  are  con- 
cerned is  chaos  at  the  Universities,  and  all  con- 
sequently is  chaos  everywhere  else. 

The  next  appeal — for  all  appeals  to  the  Univer- 
sities have  been  vain — must  be  made  to  those 
who  regulate  the  curriculums  where  Literature 
is  made  a  subject  of  teaching.  Let  them  rigor- 
ously exclude  all  but  the  best  books.  Let  them 
discourage  the  study  of  such  Epitomes,  Manuals, 
and  Histories  as  are  the  work  of  mere  irre- 
sponsible book  makers,  and  prescribe  in  its 
place  the  study  of  literary  masterpieces.  With- 
out excluding  the  best  modern  poetry  and  prose, 

*  One  illustration  of  the  indifference  of  the  authorities  of 
our  University  Presses  to  the  interest  of  Literature  is  so 
scandalous  that  it  must  be  specified.  Fourteen  years  ago  a 
series  of  lectures  was  delivered  by  the  then  Clarke  Lecturer 
in  the  Hall  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  They  were  after- 
wards published  under  the  title  of  From  Shakespeare  to  Pope, 
and  reviewed  in  the  Quarterly  Review  for  October,  1886. 
The  lectures,  as  the  Review  showed,  absolutely  swarmed 
with  blunders,  many  of  them  so  gross  as  to  be  almost  in- 
credible. Ever  since  then  the  volume  has  been  circulated  by 
the  Press,  absolutely  unrevised,  indeed  without  a  single  cor- 
rection, and  is  now  in  circulation. 

40 


OF    CRITICISM 

let  most  attention — for  obvious  reasons — be 
paid  to  the  writings  of  the  older  masters.  Let 
them  lay  special  stress  on  the  study  of  criticism, 
— of  works  treating  of  its  principles,  of  works 
illustrating  the  application  of  its  principles  to 
particular  writers  ;  and  let  no  work  be  recog- 
nised which  is  not  of  classical  authority.  Trans- 
lations should,  of  course,  as  a  rule,  be  avoided  ; 
but  in  such  a  subject  as  the  principles  of 
criticism,  there  is  not  the  smallest  reason  why 
those  works  which  are  most  excellent  in  other 
languages,  such  as  the  Treatise  on  the  Sublime, 
and  some  portions  of  Aristotle's  Poetic,  such  as 
Lessing's  Laocoon,  Schiller's  Letters  on  j^sthetics, 
the  best  Essays  of  Sainte  -  Beuve  should  not 
be  included.^  Nor  can  it  be  emphasized  too 
strongly  that  the  theory  on  which  all  literary 
teaching  should  proceed  is  that  its  object  is  not 
so  much  to  plant  as  to  cultivate,  not  so  much  to 
convey  information,  which,  after  all,  is  but  its 
medium,  as  to  inspire,  to  refine,  to  elevate.  I 
cannot  but  think,  too,  that  the  foundations  of 

*  Cf.  what  Milton  says  in  prescribing  the  study  of  master- 
pieces in  criticism  :  "  This  would  make  them  (students)  soon 
perceive  what  despicable  creatures  our  common  rimers  and 
play- writers  be,  and  show  them  what  religious,  what  glori- 
ous and  magnificent  use  might  be  made  of  poetry,  both  in 
Divine  and  human  things.  From  hence,  and  not  till  now, 
will  be  the  right  season  of  forming  them  to  be  able  writers 
and  composers  in  every  excellent  matter,  when  they  shall  be 
thus  fraught  with  an  universal  insight  into  things." — TraC' 
tate  on  Education. 

41 


THE    PEESENT    FUNCTIONS 

all  this  might  be  laid  much  earlier  than  they 
are,  especially  in  our  classical  schools,  by 
encouraging,  as,  according  to  Coleridge,  Dr. 
Boyer  used  to  do,  the  study  of  some  of  our 
greater  writers,  such  as  Shakespeare  and  Milton, 
side  by  side  with  that  of  Homer  and  Sophocles. 

But  it  is  in  criticism,  in  criticism  com- 
petently, honestly,  and  fearlessly  applied,  that 
the  chief  salvation  lies.  There  is  probably 
no  review  or  newspaper  in  London  which 
does  not  number  among  its  contributors  men 
of  the  first  order  of  ability  and  intelligence, 
men  who  are  real  scholars  and  real  critics, 
men  who  see  through  all  that  I  have  been 
describing  and  are  sick  of  it.  Let  them  not 
remain  an  impotent  minority,  but  combine, 
and  become  influential.  If  popular  Literature 
aspires  to  be  ambitious,  and  trespasses  on  the 
domains  of  scholarship  and  criticism,  let  them 
submit  it  to  the  tests  which  it  invites,  let 
them  try  it  by  the  standards  which  it  exacts. 
There  is  no  more  reason  for  the  co-existence 
of  two  standards,  as  is  now  practically  the 
case,  in  the  production  of  writings  treating  of 
our  own  Literature  than  there  is  in  the  pro- 
duction of  writings  dealing  with  Classical  Litera- 
ture. The  work  of  any  one  who  meddles  with 
the  last,  even  in  the  way  of  popularizing  it,  is 
instantly  called  by  scholars  to  a  strict  account, 
and  sciolism  and  charlatanry  are  exploded  at 
once.     But  in  the  case   of   our  own  Literature 

42 


OF    CRITICISM 

there  is  no  such  solidarity.  It  seems  to  be 
assumed  that  a  scholar  is  one  thing  and  a  man 
of  letters  another,  that  the  difference  between 
work  which  appeals  to  connoisseurs  and  work 
which  appeals  to  the  public  is  not  simply  a 
difference  in  degree,  but  a  difference  in  kind, 
and  that  the  criteria  of  the  multitude  need  be 
the  only  criteria  of  what  is  addressed  to  the 
multitude.  The  manuscript  of  a  History  of 
Greek  or  Roman  Literature,  or  a  monograph 
on  an  ancient  classic,  if  it  were  not  at  least 
solid  and  trustworthy,  would  have  no  chance 
of  ever  getting  beyond  a  publisher's  reader. 
But  a  History  of  English  Literature,  or  a  mono- 
graph on  an  English  classic,  teeming  with 
errors  in  fact  and  with  absurdities  in  theory 
and  opinion,  will  not  improbably  be  regarded 
as  an  authority,  and  pass,  unrevised,  into  more 
than  one  edition. 

The  progressive  degradation  of  Literature  and 
of  what  is  involved  in  its  influence  is,  and  must 
be,  inevitable,  unless  criticism  is  prepared  watch- 
fully and  faithfully  to  do  its  duty.  Let  it  guard 
jealously  the  standards  and  touchstones  of  ex- 
cellence as  distinguished  from  mediocrity,  even 
though  it  may  be  prudent  to  make  great  allow- 
ances in  applying  them ;  let  it  institute  a 
rigorous  censorship  over  books  designed  for  the 
use  of  students  at  the  Universities  and  in  other 
educational  establishments ;  let  it  permit  no 
writer  to  pose  in  a  false  position,  and  deliber- 

43 


THE  PRESENT  FUNCTIONS  OF  CRITICISM 

ately  trade  on  the  ignorance  and  inexperience 
of  his  readers  ;  let  it  discourage  in  every  way 
the  production  of  worthless  and  superfluous 
books,  whether  in  poetry  or  in  prose ;  and 
lastly,  while  fully  recognising  how  much  must 
be  conceded  to  professional  authors  writing 
against  time,  having  to  court  popularity  or 
being  fettered  by  conditions  imposed  on  them 
by  their  employers,  let  it  take  care  that  their 
productions  shall  at  least  not  be  mischievous, 
either  by  disseminating  error  or  by  corrupting 
taste. 


44 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE   AT  THE 
UNIVERSITIES 

I.    LANGUAGE    VERSUS  LITERATURE 
AT   OXFORD 

TO  say  that  the  anarchy  which  has  resulted 
from  confusing  the  distinction  between  the 
study  and  interpretation  of  Literature  as  the 
expression  of  art  and  genius,  and  its  study  and 
interpretation  as  a  mere  monument  of  language, 
has  had  a  most  disastrous  effect  on  education 
generally,  would  be  to  state  very  imperfectly 
the  truth  of  the  case.  It  has  led  to  inadequate 
and  even  false  conceptions  of  what  constitutes 
Literature.  It  has  led  to  all  that  is  of  essential 
importance  in  literary  study  being  ignored,  and 
all  that  is  of  secondary  or  accidental  interest 
being  preposterously  magnified  ;  to  the  substitu- 
tion of  grammatical  and  verbal  commentary  for 
the  relation  of  a  literary  masterpiece  to  history, 
to  philosophy,  to  aesthetics  ;  to  the  mechanical 
inculcation  of  all  that  can  be  imparted,  as  it 
has  been  acquired,  by  cramming,  for  the  intelli- 
gent application  of  principles  to  expression.     It 

45 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

has  led  to  the  severance  of  our  Literature  from 
all  that  constitutes  its  vitality  and  virtue  as  an 
active  power,  and  from  all  that  renders  its 
development  and  peculiarities  intelligible  as  a 
subject  of  historical  study.  In  a  word,  it  has 
led  to  a  total  misconception  of  the  ends  at  which 
literary  instruction  should  aim,  as  well  as  of  its 
most  appropriate  instruments  and  methods.  All 
this  is  illustrated  nowhere  more  strikingly  than 
in  the  publications  of  the  two  great  University 
Presses.  It  would  be  easy  to  point  to  editions 
of  English  classics,  and  to  works  on  English 
Literature,  bearing  the  imprimatur  of  Oxford 
and  Cambridge,  in  which  all  that  is  worst  in  the 
opposite  extremes  of  pedantry  and  dilettantism 
finds  ludicrous  expression. 

And  in  thus  speaking  we  are  saying  nothing 
more  than  is  notorious,  nothing  more  than  is 
admitted,  and  admitted  unreservedly,  in  the 
Universities  themselves,  or  at  least  at  Oxford. 
But  different  sections  of  Academic  society  regard 
the  matter  in  different  lights.  The  majority  of 
the  classical  professors  and  teachers,  deprecating 
any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  University  to 
meddle  with  "  Literature,"  treat  the  whole  thing 
as  a  joke,  and,  so  far  from  supposing  that 
the  reputation  of  the  University  is  concerned, 
find  infinite  amusement  in  the  constant  ex- 
posures which  are  being  made  in  the  reviews 
and  newspapers  of  the  absurdities  of  the  *'  Eng- 
lish Literature  party."     They  regard  the  "  study 

46 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

of  Literature  "  precisely  as  they  regard  the  Uni- 
versity Extension  Movement — the  one  as  a  con- 
temptible excrescence  on  our  Academic  system, 
the  other  as  a  contemptible  excrescence  on 
Academic  curricula.  Another  section  takes  a 
very  different  view.  Recognising  the  reason- 
ableness of  the  appeals  which  have,  during  the 
last  twelve  years,  been  made  to  Oxford  to  place 
the  study  of  Literature  on  the  same  sound  footing 
as  she  has  placed  that  of  other  subjects  included 
in  her  courses,  and  discerning  clearly  that  what 
is  required  cannot  be  obtained  as  long  as  the 
interests  of  Philology  and  those  of  Literature 
continue  to  collide,  this  party,  unhappily  a  small 
minority,  has  pleaded  for  the  establishment  of  a 
School  of  Literature.  They  have  very  properly 
laid  stress  on  four  points :  First,  that,  as  the  chief 
justification  for  the  establishment  of  such  a  School 
is  the  fact  that  the  University  is  undertaking  by 
innumerable  agencies,  its  Press,  its  oral  teachers 
both  at  home  and  abroad,  to  disseminate  liberal 
instruction  through  the  medium  of  English 
Literature,  the  principal  object  of  the  School 
should  be  the  education  of  these  agencies. 
Secondly,  they  have  insisted  that,  if  the  inter- 
pretation of  Literature  is  to  effect  what  it  is  of 
power  to  effect,  if,  as  an  instrument  of  politi- 
cal instruction,  it  is  to  warn,  to  admonish,  to 
guide,  if,  as  an  instrument  of  moral  and  aesthetic 
instruction,  it  is  to  exercise  that  influence  on 
taste,   on   tone,    on   sentiment,   on   opinion,  on 

47 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

character — on  all,  in  short,  which  is  susceptible 
of  educational  impression — it  must  both  be 
properly  defined  and  liberally  studied;  and  they 
contend  that,  if  it  is  to  be  so  defined  and  so 
studied  outside  the  Universities,  it  must  first  be 
so  defined  and  so  studied  within.  Thirdly,  they 
insist  that  the  study  of  our  own  Literature 
should  be  associated  with  that  of  ancient  classi- 
cal literature,  for  two  indisputable  reasons  :  first, 
because  the  basis  of  all  liberal  literary  culture,  of  a 
high  standard,  must  necessarily  rest  on  competent 
classical  attainments,  and  because,  historically 
speaking,  the  development  and  characteristics  of 
the  greater  part  of  what  is  most  valuable  in  our 
Literature  would  be  as  unintelligible,  without 
reference  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  as  the 
Literature  of  Rome  would  be  without  reference 
to  that  of  Greece.  Fourthly,  they  point  out  that, 
as  our  Literature  is,  in  various  intimate  ways, 
associated  with  the  Literatures  of  Italy,  France, 
and  Germany,  and  that,  as  an  acquaintance 
with  the  classics  of  those  countries  must  form 
an  essential  element  in  a  literary  education,  the 
comparative  study  of  those  Literatures  and  our 
own  ought,  by  all  means,  to  be  encouraged  and 
provided  for.  And,  fifthly,  they  show  that  what 
is  demanded  is  perfectly  feasible.  There  already 
exists  in  the  University,  they  contend,  every 
facility  for  organizing  such  a  course  of  Litera- 
ture as  is  required.  All  that  is  needed  is  co- 
ordination.    In  the  Classical  Moderations  and  in 

48 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

the  LitercB  Humaniores  Honour  Schools  a  liberal 
literary  education  on  the  classical  side  is  already- 
provided  ;  two-thirds  in  fact  of  the  discipline, 
culture,  and  attainments  desiderated  in  a  literary 
teacher  it  is  the  aim  of  those  Schools  to  impart. 
The  Taylorian  Institute  provides  instruction  in 
the  languages  and  literatures  of  the  Continent ; 
and,  if  its  professors  could  be  roused  into  a  little 
more  activity,  a  youth  might,  in  two  years,  if  he 
pleased, — and  that  side  by  side  with  his  severer 
studies — acquire  something  more  than  a  superfi- 
cial acquaintance  with  the  language  and  writings 
of  Dante  and  Machiavelli,  of  Montaigne  and 
Moli^re,  of  Lessing  and  Goethe.  What  he  couW 
not  obtain  would  be  instruction  and  guidance  in 
the  study  of  our  own  Literature.  In  a  word,  all 
that  is  required  to  secure  what  this  party  plead 
for  is  simply  the  establishment  of  a  School  of 
English  Literature,  in  the  proper  acceptation  of 
the  term,  and  the  co-ordination  of  studies  which 
are  at  present  pursued  independently.  It  was 
proposed  that  it  should  take  the  form  of  a  Post- 
graduate Honour  School,  standing  in  the  same 
relation  to  the  other  schools  in  the  University 
as  the  old  Law  and  History  School  used  to  stand 
to  the  old  lAterce  Humaniores  School,  and  as  the 
examination  for  the  Bachelorship  in  Civil  Law 
now  stands  to  the  ordinary  Law  School.  Thus 
a  youth  who  had  graduated  in  honours  in 
Moderations  and  in  the  Final  Classical  School, 
who  had  studied  modern  literatures  at  the 
E.G.  49  D 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

Taylorian  and  our  own  Literature  under  its 
professor,  or  even  by  himself,  would  have  an 
opportunity  of  displaying  his  qualifications  for 
an  honour  diploma  in  Literature.  But  the 
appeals  and  arguments  of  this  party  have  been 
of  no  avail. 

Next  come  the  philologists.  They  are  in 
possession  of  the  field.  All  the  revenues  sup- 
porting the  Chairs  of  Language  and  Literature 
are  their  monopoly.  They  have  steadily  resisted 
all  attempts  on  the  part  of  what  may  be  denomi- 
nated the  Liberal  party  to  encroach  on  their 
dominions.  In  their  eyes  the  Universities  are 
simply  nurseries  for  esoteric  specialists,  and  to 
talk  of  bringing  them  into  touch  with  national 
life  is,  in  their  estimation,  mere  cant.  Their 
attitude  towards  Literature,  generally,  is  precisely 
that  of  the  classical  party  towards  our  own 
Literature  ;  they  regard  it  simply  as  the  con- 
cern of  men  of  letters,  journalists,  dilettants, 
and  Extension  lecturers.  They  defeated  sixteen 
years  ago  an  attempt  to  establish  a  Chair  of 
English  Literature  by  transforming  it  into  a 
Chair  of  Language  and  securing  it  for  themselves. 
They  attempted,  subsequently,  to  supplement 
what  they  had  done  by  the  establishment  of  a 
School  of  Language  on  the  model  of  the  MedisB- 
val  and  Modern  Languages  Tripos  at  Cambridge. 
They  were  defeated  by  a  coalition  of  the  clas- 
sical party,  the  Liberals,  of  whom  we  have  just 
spoken,   and  a  third  party  which  insisted  on  a 

50 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

compromise  between  Philology  and  Literature. 
Reviving  the  scheme,  they  have,  by  accepting 
the  modifications  of  the  compromisers,  just 
succeeded  in  getting  it  accepted.  The  new 
School  of  English  Language  and  Literature  is 
the  result  of  that  compromise. 

Now  it  will  not  be  disputed  that  if  the  Univer- 
sities ought,  in  the  interests  of  liberal  culture, 
to  provide  adequately  for  instruction  in  Litera- 
ture, they  ought  also,  in  the  interests  of  science, 
to  provide  adequately  for  instruction  in  Philology. 
It  is  a  branch  of  learning  of  immense  impor- 
tance. It  is,  and  ought  to  be,  the  peculiar  care  of 
Universities,  and  nothing  could  be  more  deroga- 
tory to  a  University  than  deficiency  in  such  a 
study.  But  it  is  a  study  in  itself.  As  a  science 
it  has  no  connection  with  Literature.  Indeed 
the  instincts  and  faculties  which  separate  the 
temperament  of  the  mathematician  from  the 
temperament  of  the  poet  are  not  more  radical 
and  essential  than  the  instincts  and  faculties 
which  separate  the  sympathetic  student  of 
Philology  from  the  sympathetic  student  of 
Literature.  But  no  science  resolves  itself  more 
easily  into  a  pseudo-science,  and  it  is  in  this 
degenerate  form  that  it  has  become  linked  with 
Literature  and  been,  in  all  ages,  the  butt  of  wits 
and  men  of  letters.  Nothing  but  anarchy  can 
result  till  this  mutually  degrading  alliance  be 
dissolved.  It  has  been  forced  on  the  philologists 
by  the  compromise  to  which  reference  has  been 

51 


ENGHLISH    LITERATURE 

made.  Let  them  be  free  to  rescind  it.  Let  the 
"  pia  vota  "  of  Professor  Max  Miiller  be  fulfilled 
and  Oxford  have  her  School  of  Philology.  That 
such  a  School  should  be  established  is  desirable 
for  three  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  it  would 
define  what  is  at  present  vague  and  indeter- 
minate, the  scope  and  functions  of  Philology. 
Secondly,  it  would  place  that  study  on  its 
proper  footing,  and,  by  placing  it  on  its  proper 
footing,  it  would  not  only  demonstrate  its  rela- 
tion to  other  studies,  but  it  would  enable  it 
to  effect  fully  what  it  is  competent  to  effect. 
Thirdly,  it  might,  and  probably  would,  do  some- 
thing to  relieve  Oxford  of  the  opprobrium  of 
being  behind  the  rest  of  the  learned  world  in 
this  branch  of  science.  The  School  would  prob- 
ably not  attract  many  students,  for  Philology, 
unlike  Literature,  can  never  appeal  to  more 
than  a  small  minority.  If,  therefore,  the  choice 
lay  between  the  institution  of  a  School  of  Phil- 
ology and  that  of  a  School  of  Literature,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  which  should  have  precedence. 
But  no  such  choice  is  offered.  If  the  philologists 
were  not  strong  enough  to  refuse  to  compromise, 
they  are  strong  enough  to  crush  any  attempt  to 
forestall  them. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  constitution  of  the 
School  which  has  been  the  result  of  this  arrange- 
ment, and  which  will  authorize  the  University 
to  confer,  not,  be  it  remembered,  an  ordinary, 
but  an  honour,  degree  in  English  Language  and 

52 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

Literature.  The  following  are  the  Regulations. 
The  subjects  for  examination  are  four.  1.  Por- 
tions of  English  authors.  2.  The  History  of  the 
English  Language.  3.  The  History  of  English 
Literature.  4.  In  the  case  of  those  candidates 
who  aim  at  a  place  in  the  first  or  second  class,  a 
Special  Subject  of  language  or  literature.  The 
portions  of  the  authors  specified  are  these. 
BeoKmlf,  the  texts  printed  in  Sweet's  Anglo- 
Saxon  Reader,  King  Horn,  Havelok;  Laurence 
Minot,  Sir  Gawain  and  the  Green  Knight.  Of 
Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales,  the  Prologue,  The 
Knight's  Tale,  The  Man  of  Law's,  The  Prioress's, 
Sir  Thopas,  The  Monk's,  The  Nun  Priest's,  The 
Pardoner's,  The  Clerk's,  The  Squire's,  The  Second 
Nun's,  The  Canon  Yeoman's.  Next  come  the 
Prologue  and  the  first  seven  passus  (text  B)  of 
Piers  Ploughman.  Then  come  select  plays  of 
Shakespeare,  chosen  apparently  at  haphazard, 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Rom,eo  and  Juliet,  Richard 
the  Second,  Twelfth  Night,  Julius  CcBsar,  Winter's 
Tale,  King  Lear.  Then  we  have  the  following 
extraordinary  farrago  : — 

Bacon's  Essays. 

Milton,  with  a  special  study  of  Paradise  Lost 
and  the  Areopagitica. 

Dryden's  Essay  on  Epic  (sic). 

Pope's  Satires  and  Epistles. 

Johnson's   Lives   of    the   Poets — the   Lives  of 
Eighteenth-Century  Poets. 

63 


English  literature! 

Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World. 

Burke's  Thoughts  on  the  Present  Discontents. 

Lyrical  Ballads  (Wordsworth  and  Coleridge), 
Shelley's  Adonais,^ 

The  second  part  of  the  examination  will  be  on 
the  History  of  the  English  Language.  "  Candi- 
dates will  be  examined  in  Gothic  (the  Gospel  of 
St.  Mark),  and  in  translation  from  Old  English 
and  Middle  English  authors  not  specially 
offered." 

This  is  to  be  followed  by  the  History  of  Eng- 
lish Literature,  to  which  portion  of  the  Regula- 
tions the  following  odd  clause  is  appended : 
"  the  examination  will  include  the  History  of 
Criticism  and  of  style  in  prose  and  verse." 
Last  come  the  special  subjects  designed  for 
"those  who  aim  at  a  place  in  the  First  or 
Second  Class."  Six  of  these  consist  of  certain 
prescribed  periods  of  English  Literature.  The 
other  subjects  are  as  follows  : — 

(1)  Old  English  Language  and  Literature 
down  to  1150  A.D. 

(2)  Middle  English  Language  and  Literature, 
1150-1400  A.D. 

(3)  Old  French  Philology  with  special  refer- 
ence to  Anglo-Norman  French,  together  with  a 

*  For  the  sort  of  textbook  from  which  the  student  who 
is  a  candidate  for  "honours  in  English"  will  be  required 
to  get  his  knowledge  of  this  poem,  see  infra^  the  review  of 
the  Clarendon  Press  Edition  of  Shelley's  Adonais, 

54 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

special  study  of  the  following  texts  : — Computus 
of  Phillippe  de  Thaun,  Voyage  of  St.  Brandan^ 
The  Song  of  Dermot  and  the  Early  Lea  Contes 
moralises  de  Nicole  Bozon. 

(4)  Scandinavian  Philology,  with  special  refer- 
ence to  Icelandic,  together  with  a  special  study 
of  the  following  texts  : — Crylfaginning^  Laxdcela 
Saga,  Gunnlaugssaga  Ormstungu. 

(5)  French  Literature  down  to  1400  A.D.  in  its 
bearing  on  English  Literature. 

(6)  Italian  Literature  as  influencing  English 
down  to  the  death  of  Milton. 

(7)  German  Literature  from  1500  A.D.  to  the 
death  of  Goethe  in  its  bearing  on  English  Litera- 
ture. 

(8)  History  of  Scottish  Poetry. 

Such  is  the  scheme  which  will,  in  conjunction 
with  the  similar  scheme  at  Cambridge,  supply 
England  and  the  colonies  with  their  literary  pro- 
fessors. Let  us  examine  it  in  detail.  The  first 
thing  which  strikes  us  is  the  contrast  between 
the  competence  and  judgment  displayed  in  the 
organization  of  the  philological  part  of  the 
course  and  the  confusion,  inadequacy,  and  flimsi- 
ness  so  conspicuous  in  the  literary  part.  Nothing 
could  be  more  satisfactory  than  the  provisions 
made  for  the  study  of  Language.  They  are  ob- 
viously the  work  of  legislators  who  knew  what 
they  were  about,  and  who,  but  for  the  thwarting 
requirements  of  the  provisions   for   Literature, 

55 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

would  have  proceeded  to  a  superstructure  worthy 
of  the  foundation.  A  student  who,  in  addition 
to  having  mastered  the  prescribed  works  in 
Gothic,  Anglo-Saxon,  and  Middle  English,  is 
competent  to  translate  and  comment  on  unpre- 
pared passages  from  those  dialects,  has  certainly- 
laid  the  foundation  of  sound  scholarship  in  an 
important  department  of  Philology.  In  the  fact 
that  what  properly  belongs  to  his  study  has  been 
relegated  to  the  subjects  out  of  which  he  has 
only  the  option  of  choosing  one,  we  have  a 
lamentable  illustration  of  the  effects  of  the  com- 
promise forced  on  the  philologists.  If,  for  the 
literary  portion  of  the  curriculum,  a  candidate 
could  substitute  the  first  four  of  the  special  sub- 
jects, he  would  have  completed  a  thoroughly 
satisfactory  course  of  Philology,  so  far  at  least  as 
relates  to  the  Teutonic  and  Romance  languages. 
But  to  pass  from  what  concerns  Philology  to 
what  concerns  Literature.  Now  in  considering 
this  point  it  is  necessary  to  remember  that  we 
are  not  dealing  with  the  regulations  of  any  sub- 
ordinate institution  or  curriculum,  with  provin- 
cial Universities  and  seminaries,  or  with  schemes 
of  study  in  which  Literature  is  only  one  out  of 
many  subjects.  We  are  dealing  with  a  Final 
Honour  School  at  Oxford,  with  regulations  which 
will  inevitably  form  a  precedent  and  model 
wherever  the  study  of  English  literature  shall 
be  organized  in  Great  Britain.  We  are  dealing 
with  a  school  which  is  to  educate  those  who  are 

56 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

to  educate  the  country.  Nothing,  therefore, 
could  be  more  disastrous  than  unsoundness  and 
deficiency  in  the  provisions  of  such  an  institu- 
tion, nothing  more  deplorable  than  its  giving 
countenance  and  authority  to  error  and  inade- 
quacy. It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  if  this 
scheme  had  been  designed  with  the  express  ob- 
ject of  degrading  the  standard  of  literary  teach- 
ing, and  of  perpetuating  all  that  is  worst  in 
present  systems,  it  could  hardly  have  been  better 
adapted  for  its  purpose.  Not  to  dwell  upon  sub- 
ordinate defects,  it  completely  severs  the  study 
of  our  own  literature  from  that  of  the  ancient 
classical  literatures.  It  necessitates  no  know- 
ledge of  any  of  the  Continental  literatures.  It 
ignores  absolutely  the  higher  criticism.  Con- 
tracting Literature  within  the  narrowest  bounds, 
its  selection  of  books  for  special  study  is  worthy 
of  an  Army  Examination.  In  the  wretched 
jumble  in  which  Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World 
jostles  Shelley's  Adonais  and  Burke's  Thoughts 
on  the  Present  Discontents  Wordsworth's  and 
Coleridge's  Lyrical  Ballads,  no  attempt  is  made 
to  discriminate  between  compositions  which  are 
representative,  either  critically  of  the  work  of 
particular  authors,  or  historically  of  particular 
epochs,  and  works  which  have  no  such  signifi- 
cance, while  many  of  the  most  important  depart- 
ments of  our  prose  Literature  are  unrepresented. 
Nor  is  this  all.  It  affords  every  facility  for 
cramming.     It  is   adapted  to  test  nothing  but 

67 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

what  may  be  mechanically  acquired  and  me- 
chanically imparted,  what  may  be  poured  out 
from  lectures  into  notebooks,  and  from  note- 
books into  examination  papers.  Proceeding  on 
the  assumption  that  a  literary  education  is 
merely  the  acquisition  of  positive  knowledge,  it 
neither  requires  nor  encourages,  as  the  prescrip- 
tion of  an  essay  or  thesis,  or  even  "  taste-paper," 
might  have  done,  any  of  the  finer  qualities  of 
literary  culture,  such,  for  example,  as  a  sense  of 
style,  sound  judgment,  good  taste,  the  touch  of 
the  scholar.  We  can  assure  these  legislators, 
and  we  speak  from  knowledge,  that,  setting 
aside  the  philological  portion  of  this  curriculum, 
which  is,  so  far  as  it  goes,  solid  enough,  an  ex- 
perienced crammer,  would,  in  about  three  months 
furnish  an  astute  youth  with  all  that  is  requisite 
for  graduating  in  this  school. 

But  to  proceed  to  details.  Conceive  the  quali- 
fications of  an  interpreter  and  critic  of  English 
Literature,  a  graduate  in  Honours  in  his  subject, 
whose  education  has  proceeded  on  the  hypothesis 
that  he  need  have  no  acquaintance  with  the 
classics  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Would  any  com- 
petent scholar  deny  that  the  history  of  English 
Literature,  in  its  mature  expression,  is  little  less 
than  the  history  of  the  modifications  of  native 
genius  and  characteristics  by  classical  influence, 
that  the  development  and  peculiarities  of  our 
epic,  dramatic,  elegiac,  didactic,  pastoral,  much 
of  our  lyric,  of  our  satire  and  of  other  species  of 

58 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

our  poetry  is,  historically  speaking,  unintelligible 
without  reference  to  ancient  classical  literature? 
That  what  is  true  of  our  poetry  is  true  of  our 
criticism,  of  our  oratory,  sacred  and  secular,  of 
our  dialectic  and  epistolary  Literature,  of  our 
historical  composition,  of  the  greater  part,  in 
short,  of  our  national  masterpieces  in  prose? 
What,  indeed,  the  Literature  of  Greece  was  to 
that  of  Rome,  the  Literatures  of  Greece  and 
Rome  have  been  to  ours.^ 

It  was  the  influence  of  JEjschylus,  Sophocles, 
Euripides,  Menander,  Diphilus,  which  trans- 
formed the  Ludi  Scenici  and  the  Atellan  farces 
into  the  tragedies  of  Ennius  and  Pacuvius  and 


*  The  Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon  at  Oxford,  one  of  the 
chief  legislators  for  the  new  School,  thinks  otherwise,  and  we 
should  like  to  place  the  following  passage  on  record.  In  his 
extraordinary  History  of  English  Prose  (p.  485)  he  writes 
thus :  "  The  idea  that  English  literature  rests  upon  a 
classical  basis  has  been  formulated  and  industriously  circu- 
lated as  the  watchword  of  a  pedantic  faction,  and  hardly 
any  organ  of  current  literature  has  proved  itself  strong 
enough,  or  vigilant  enough,  to  secure  itself  against  the 
insidious  entrance  of  the  above  indoctrination."  And  so  it 
comes  to  pass  that  we  read  in  the  account  of  the  debate  in 
Congregation,  on  the  occasion  of  the  former  attempt  to 
establish  this  School : — 

"  The  proposal  to  add  the  Professors  of  Greek  and  Latin  to 
the  Board  of  Studies  was  rejected  by  thirty-eight  votes  to 
twenty-four,  Professor  Earle  maintaining  that  the  fallacious 
notion  that  English  literature  was  derived  from  the  classics 
was  so  strong  that  it  was  unwise  to  place  even  the  Professor 
of  Latin  on  the  Board."— IVme«,  May  26, 1887. 

59 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

the  comedies  of  Plautus  and  Terence.  It  was 
the  influence  of  the  Roman  drama  and  of  a 
drama  modelled  on  the  Roman  which  trans- 
formed, so  far  at  least  as  structure  and  style  are 
concerned,  our  similarly  rude  native  experiments 
into  the  tragedies  and  comedies  of  Shakespeare. 
On  the  epics  of  Greece  were  modelled  the  epics 
of  Rome,  and  on  the  epics  of  Greece  and  Rome 
are  modelled  our  own  great  epics.  Of  our 
elegiac  poetry,  to  employ  the  term  in  its  conven- 
tional sense,  one  portion  is  largely  indebted  to 
Theocritus,  Moschus,  and  Virgil,  and  another  to 
Catullus  and  Ovid.  Almost  all  our  didactic 
poetry  is  modelled  on  the  didactic  poetry  of 
Rome.  Theocritus  and  Virgil  have  furnished 
the  archetypes  for  our  eclogues  and  pastorals. 
One  important  branch  of  our  lyric  poetry  springs 
directly  from  Pindar,  another  important  branch 
directly  from  Horace,  another  directly  from  the 
choral  odes  of  the  Attic  dramatists  and  of  Seneca. 
Our  heroic  satire,  from  Hall  to  Lord  Lytton,  is 
simply  the  counterpart — often,  indeed,  a  mere 
imitation — of  Roman  satire.  And  if  this  is  true 
of  our  satire,  it  is  equally  true  of  our  best 
ethical  poetry.  The  Epistles,  which  fill  so  large 
a  space  in  the  poetical  literature  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  century,  derive  their 
origin  from  those  of  Horace.  To  the  Heroides 
of  Ovid  we  owe  a  whole  series  of  important 
poems  from  Drayton  to  Cawthorn.  The 
Greek   anthology   and    Martial   have   furnished 

60 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

the  archetjrpes  of  our  epigrams  and  of  our  epi- 
taphs. It  is  the  same  with  our  prose.  The 
history  of  English  eloquence  begins  from  the 
moment  when  the  Roman  classics  moulded  and 
coloured  our  style,  when  periodic  prose  was 
modelled  on  Cicero  and  Livy,  when  analytic 
prose  was  modelled  on  Sallust,  Seneca,  and 
Tacitus.  With  the  exception  of  fiction,  there 
is  no  important  branch  of  our  prose  composition, 
the  development  and  characteristics  of  which  are 
historically  intelligible  without  reference  to  the 
ancients.  How  radically  inadequate  must  any 
study  of  the  principles  of  criticism  be,  which  has 
no  reference  to  the  critical  works  of  the  Greek 
and  Roman  writers,  is  obvious.  But  it  is  not 
merely  in  tracing  the  development  and  explaining 
the  peculiarities  generally  of  our  prose  and  of 
our  poetry  that  competent  classical  scholarship  is 
indispensable.  Is  it  not  notorious  that  in  each 
generation,  from  Spenser  to  Tennyson,  from 
More  to  Froude,  our  leading  poets  and  prose 
writers  have  been,  with  very  few  exceptions, 
men  nourished  on  classical  literature  and  satu- 
rated with  its  influence?  Many  entire  master- 
pieces, much,  and  in  some  cases  the  greater 
portion,  of  other  masterpieces,  particularly  in 
our  poetry,  are  simply  unintelligible — we  are 
speaking,  of  course,  of  serious  critical  students 
— except  to  classical  scholars.  Take,  for  ex- 
ample, the  Faerie  Queen,  and  the  Hymns  of 
Spenser,  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  Comus,  Lycidas, 

61 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

and  Samson  Agonistes,  Pope's  satires,  the  two 
great  odes  of  Gray,  Collins's  odes  to  Fear  and 
the  Passions,  Wordsworth's  great  Ode  and  his 
Laodamia,  Shelley's  Adonais  and  Prometheus 
Unbound,  Landor's  Hellenics,  much  of  the  poetry 
of  Tennyson,  Browning,  and  Matthew  Arnold. 
Indeed  it  would  be  as  preposterous  to  attempt 
any  critical  study  of  our  Literature,  without  refer- 
ence to  the  ancients,  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to 
set  up  as  an  interpreter  in  Roman  Literature 
without  reference  to  the  Greek. 

And  the  effect  of  this  severance  of  the  study  of 
the  ancient  classics  from  the  study  of  our  own  is 
written  large  throughout  the  whole  domain  of 
education,  in  the  instruction  given  in  schools  and 
institutes,  in  the  monographs,  manuals,  and  "edi- 
tions" which  pour  from  scholastic  presses.  In  one 
of  the  most  popular  manuals  now  in  circulation, 
the  writer  gravely  tells  us  that"  the  pastoral  name 
of  Lycidas  was  chosen  by  Milton  to  signify  purity 
of  character,"  adding  "  in  Theocritus  a  goat  was 
so  called  \€VKLra<i  for  its  whiteness,"  that  Comus 
"  the  drinker  of  human  blood "  revelled  in  the 
palace  of  Agamemnon.^  Another  writer  con- 
founds the  "  choruses  "  in  Shakespeare  with  the 
choruses  of  the  Greek  plays.  Another,  com- 
menting on  the  symbolism  of  ivy  in  the  wreath 

*  Koi  fxr)v  TTfTTWAcwr  y',  «f  dpaavvfadai  nXfov^ 
fipOTfCov  aifia,  Ktofios  (v  bojxois  fiiva 
tiKmefXTTTOt  t^di  ^vyy(')va>v  ^'Epivvav, 

— Agamem.,  11B9-61. 
62 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

of  a  poet,  tells  us  that  it  indicates  "constancy."* 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  find  elaborate 
critical  comments  on  the  Faerie  Queen  without 
the  smallest  reference  to  its  connection  with 
Aristotle's  Ethics^  and  on  Wordsworth's  great 
Ode  without  any  reference  to  Plato.  But  such 
is  the  confidence  reposed  in  Professor  Earle  and 
his  theory,  and  so  determined  are  the  legisla- 
tors for  the  new  School  to  exclude  all  connection 
with  classical  literature,  that  it  is  not  admitted 
even  as  a  special  subject.  A  candidate  has,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  option  of  studying  the  influence 
exercised  on  old  English  literature  by  French, 
and  on  later  literature  by  Italian  and  German  ; 
but  the  one  thing  which  he  has  not  the  option  of 
studying  is  the  influence  exercised  on  it  by  the 
literatures  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Some  of  our 
readers  may  remember  that  a  few  years  ago  a 
public  appeal  was  made  for  an  expression  of 
opinion  on  the  question  of  associating  the  study 
of  our  own  classics  and  that  of  the  ancients. 
Opinions  were  elicited  from  many  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished men  in  England.  They  were  all  but 
unanimous,  not  merely  in  supporting  the  associa- 
tion, but  in  deprecating  the  severance.  So  wrote 
Mr.  Gladstone,  Cardinal  Manning,  Professor 
Jowett,  Matthew  Arnold,  Lord  Lytton,  Mr.  John 
Morley,  Walter  Pater,  AddingtonSymonds  ;  so 

*  For  ample  illustration  of  this,  see  infra  the  review  of 
the  Clarendon  Press  edition  of  Shelley's  Adonais. 

63 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

wrote  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the 
Bishop  of  London,  the  Rector  of  Lincoln,  the 
President  of  Magdalen,  the  Warden  of  All  Souls, 
and  many  others.  We  may  add,  also — for  we 
are  now  at  liberty  to  state  it  publicly — that  this 
was  emphatically  the  opinion  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing. We  cannot,  of  course,  quote  these  opinions 
in  extenso,^  and  that  of  the  late  Professor 
Jowett  and  a  portion  of  that  of  Mr.  John 
Morley  must  suffice. 

I  am  as  strongly  of  opinion  that  in  an  Honour  School  of 
English  Literature  or  Modern  Literature  the  subject  should 
not  be  separated  from  classical  literature,  as  1  am  of  opinion 
that  English  literature  should  have  a  place  in  our  curriculum. 

So  writes  Professor  Jowett. 

It  seems  to  me  to  be  as  impossible  effectively  to  study 
English  literature,  except  in  close  association  with  the 
classics,  as  it  would  be  to  grasp  the  significance  of  mediaeval 
or  modern  institutions  without  reference  to  the  political 
creations  of  Greece  and  Rome.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see 
the  study  of  Greek  and  Latin  writers  displaced,  or  cut  off 
from  the  study  of  our  own. 

So  writes  Mr.  John  Morley. 

But  the  Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  his 
friends,  as  we  have  seen,  think  otherwise,  and 
have,  unhappily  for  the  interests  of  letters  and 
education,  persuaded  Oxford  to  think  otherwise 
too.  We  say  advisedly  the  interests  of  letters  and 

*  They  may  all  be  found  in  full  in  a  Pall  Mall  "  Extra^* 
(January,  1887),  and  in  the  present  writer's  Study  of  English 
Literature. 

64 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

education.  For  the  precedent  of  excluding  from 
a  School  of  "  Literature,"  and  that  at  the  chief 
centre  and  nursery  of  liberal  culture,  the  Litera- 
tures of  Greece  and  Rome  cannot  but  be  detri- 
mental to  the  vitality  and  influence  of  the  ancient 
classics ;  and,  as  Froude  truly  observed,  both  the 
national  taste  and  the  tone  of  the  national  intel- 
lect would  suffer  serious  decline,  if  they  lost  their 
authority.  The  reaction  against  philological 
study  which  has  set  in  during  the  last  ten  years 
has  given  them  a  new  lease  of  life.  But  the 
spirit  of  the  age  is  against  them ;  they  have 
rivals  in  languages  far  easier  to  acquire ;  they 
are  not,  and  never  can  be,  in  touch  with  the 
many.  Let  them  become  disassociated  from  our 
curriculums  of  Literature,  and  they  will  cease 
to  be  influential,  They  will  cease  to  be  studied 
seriously,  to  be  studied  even  in  the  original, 
except  by  mere  scholars. 

Another  absurdity,  not  less  monstrous,  in  these 
regulations,  is  the  absence  of  all  provision  for  in- 
struction in  the  principles  of  criticism.  There 
is  indeed  an  unmeaning  clause  about  the  history 
of  criticism,  and  of  style  in  verse  and  prose, 
being  included  in  the  examination  ;  but  as  no- 
thing is  specified,  and  as  no  work  on  criticism, 
with  the  exception  of  Dryden's  Discourse  on 
Epic  Poetry,  and  Johnson's  Lives  (of  eighteenth- 
century     poets),  ^    is     included     in     the    books 

*  It  is  amusing  to  notice  how  carefully  the  greater  part  of 
E.G.  65  B 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

prescribed  for  special  study,  it  is  plain  that  this 
important  subject  has  no  place.  Why  it  should 
not  have  occurred  to  these  legislators  to  sub- 
stitute, say,  for  Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World 
and  Burke's  Thoughts  on  the  Pi'esent  Discontents, 
some  work  which  would  at  least  have  opened 
the  eyes  of  the  literary  professors  of  the  future 
to  the  existence  of  philosophical  criticism,  is 
certainly  odd.  Had  they  prescribed  select 
essays  from  Hume ;  and  Shaftesbury's  Advice 
to  an  Author y  or  Campbell's  Philosophy  of 
Rhetoric,  or  Burke's  Treatise  on  the  Sublime 
and  Beautiful,  or  even  the  critical  portions  of 
Coleridge's  Biographia  Literaria,  with  the  two 
essays  of  Wordsworth,  it  would  have  been 
something.  But  the  truth  is  that,  as  they  have 
excluded,  except  from  the  optional  subjects,  all 
literatures  but  the  English,  one  absurdity  has 
involved  them  in  another.  The  course  for  the 
literary  education  of  our  future  professors, 
proceeding  on  the  principle  that  they  need 
know  no  language  but  Gothic  and  Anglo-Saxon, 
has  necessitated  the  elimination  of  all  the  great 

what  is  most  precious  and  instructive  in  Johnson's  work, 
the  lives  namely  of  Cowley  and  Dryden,  and  tlie  noble 
critique  of  Paradise  Lost,  is  expressly  excluded,  and  the 
greater  part  of  what  is  most  trivial,  and  regarded  by  himself 
as  trivial,  the  lives  of  the  minor  poets  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  selected  instead.  Macaulay  ranks  the  lives  of 
Cowley  and  Dryden,  with  tliat  of  Pope,  as  the  masterpieces 
of  the  woi-k ;  and  Johnson  himself  considered  the  life  of 
Cowley  to  be  the  best. 

66 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

masterpieces  of  critical  literature.  As  they  are 
assumed  to  know  no  Greek,  they  can  have  no 
serious  instruction  in  such  works  as  Aristotle's 
Poetic  and  Rhetoric,  and  in  the  Treatise  on  the 
Sublime.  As  they  are  assumed  to  know  no 
Latin,  they  can  have  no  instruction  in  Roman 
criticism.  On  the  same  principle  such  works 
as  Lessing's  Laocoon  and  Hamburgische  Drama- 
turgies Schiller's  -^Esthetical  Letters  and  Essays, 
Villemain's  Lectures,  and  Sainte-Beuve's  Essays, 
can  find  no  place  in  their  curricukim  of  study. 
And  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  Dryden's  Dis- 
course on  Epic  Poetry  and  Johnson's  Lives  of 
the  eighteenth-century  poets,  represent — proh 
pudor  ! — the  course  in  Criticism. 

Now  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  for  a 
University  like  Oxford  to  confer  an  honour 
degree  in  English  Literature  on  a  student  who 
need  never  have  read  a  line  of  the  works  to 
which  we  have  referred,  is  to  authorize  not  simply 
superficiality,  but  sheer  imposture.  How  can  a 
teacher  deal  adequately  even  with  the  subject 
which  these  regulations  profess  to  include — the 
history  of  criticism — who  need  have  no  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Poetic  and  Rhetoric,  the  Treatise 
on  the  Sublime,  and  the  Institutes  of  Oratory? 
How  could  a  teacher  possibly  be  a  competent 
exponent  and  critic  of  the  masterpieces  of  our 
literature,  who  had  not  received  a  proper  critical 
training,  and  how  could  he  have  any  preten- 
sion to  such  a  training  when  all  that  is  best  in 

67 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

criticism  had  been  expressly  excluded  from  his 
education  ? 

It  may  be  urged  that  he  would  himself  supply 
these  deficiencies,  that  the  study  of  our  own 
Literature  would  naturally  lead  him  to  the  study 
of  other  Literatures,  that  intelligent  curiosity, 
ambition,  or  a  sense  of  shame  would  induce  him 
to  supplement  voluntarily,  and  by  his  own 
efforts,  what  he  needed  in  his  profession.  In 
some  instances  this  would  undoubtedly  be  the 
case.  In  the  great  majority  of  instances  such 
a  supposition  would  be  against  all  analogy.  As 
a  general  rule,  a  high  honour  degree  in  any 
subject  represented  at  the  Universities  is  final. 
It  winds  a  man  up  for  life.  It  determines,  fixes, 
and  colours  his  methods,  his  views,  his  tone,  in 
all  that  relates  to  the  subject  in  which  he  has 
graduated.  If  he  chooses  teaching  as  a  pro- 
fession, he  has  no  inducement  to  correct,  to 
modify,  or  even  materially  add  to  what  has 
been  imparted  to  him,  for  his  scholastic  reputa- 
tion has  been  made,  and  a  comfortable  independ- 
ence is  assured.  To  very  many  men,  indeed, 
who  go  up  to  the  Universities  with  the  inten- 
tion of  following  teaching  as  a  profession,  a 
high  degree  is  a  mere  investment,  the  one 
instinct  in  them  which  is  not  quite  banausic 
being  the  conscientious  thoroughness  with 
which  they  impart  what  they  have  been  taught. 
Nothing,  therefore,  is  of  more  importance  to 
education  than  the    sound    constitution  of  the 

68 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

Honour  Schools  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  and 
nothing  could  be  more  disastrous  than  the 
toleration  in  those  Schools  of  inadequate 
standards,  and  of  palpably  erroneous  theories 
of  study. 

But  to  return  to  the  Regulations.  The  ridicu- 
lous disproportion  between  the  ground  covered 
and  the  work  involved  in  the  different  "  special 
subjects"  open  to  the  option  of  candidates,  would 
seem  to  indicate,  either  that  the  regulators  are 
very  inadequately  informed  on  those  subjects,  or 
that  divided  counsels  have  resulted  in  the  settle- 
ment of  very  different  standards  of  requirement. 
Compare,  for  instance,  what  is  involved  respect- 
ively in  such  subjects  as  "  English  Literature 
between  1700  and  1745,"  and  "  The  History  of 
Scottish  Poetry."  Why,  a  competent  know- 
ledge of  the  history  of  Scotch  poetry  in  the 
fifteenth  century  alone  would  be  more  than 
an  equivalent  to  the  first  subject.  Not  less 
absurd  is  the  prescription  of  "  English  Litera- 
ture between  1745  and  1797  "  as  an  alternative 
for  "  English  Literature  between  1558  and  1637." 
The  prescription  of  such  "  special  subjects "  as 
the  influence  exercised  on  our  Literature  by  the 
Literatures  of  Italy,  Germany,  and  France,  is 
one  of  the  few  steps  in  a  wise  direction  discern- 
ible in  these  regulations ;  but,  as  no  student  is 
free  to  take  more  than  one  of  them,  or  required 
to  take  any  of  them  at  all,  their  inclusion  in  no 
way  affects  the  constitution  of  the  School.     A 

69 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

competent  literary  education  is  not  very  much 
furthered  by  a  student  being  invited  to  study 
how  our  Literature  has  been  affected  by  one 
out  of  the  five  Literatures  which  have  influenced 
it.  As,  moreover,  the  integrity  of  a  chain 
depends  on  its  weakest  link,  so  the  efficiency 
of  examinational  tests,  in  their  application  to 
purely  optional  subjects,  depends  on  that  sub- 
ject in  the  list  which  involves  least  labour.  A 
candidate  who  can  "  get  a  first  "  out  of  "  English 
Literature  between  1700  and  1745,"  or  between 
1745  and  1797,  will  be  much  too  wise  to  attempt 
to  "  get  a  first "  out  of  subjects  which  will 
require  treble  the  time  and  labour  to  master. 
Is  it  likely  that  candidates,  anxious,  naturally, 
from  less  lofty  motives  than  the  love  of  Litera- 
ture for  its  own  sake,  to  obtain  an  honour  degree, 
will,  after  laboriously  acquiring  Anglo-Saxon 
and  Middle  English,  which  are  compulsory, 
voluntarily  specialize  in  a  subject  requiring  a 
knowledge  of  Italian  and  German,  when  it  is 
open  to  them  to  choose,  as  their  special  subject, 
"  Old  English  Language  and  Literature  down  to 
1150"? 

The  statute  authorizing  the  foundation  of  this 
School  recites  that  in  its  curriculum  and  exami- 
nations "  equal  weight  "  is,  "  as  far  as  possible, 
to  be  given  to  Language  and  Literature,  provided 
always  that  candidates  who  offer  special  sub- 
jects shall  be  at  liberty  to  choose  subjects  con- 
nected either  with  Language  or  Literature,   or 

70 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

with  both."  It  would  be  interesting  to  know 
what  this  means.  If  by  "  equal  weight "  be 
meant  equality  in  the  proportions  of  what  is 
prescribed  for  the  study  of  Literature,  and  what 
is  prescribed  for  the  study  of  Language,  the  pro- 
vision is  stultified  by  the  very  constitution  of  the 
course.  To  suppose  that  the  history  of  English 
Literature,  and  the  special  study  of  a  few  par- 
ticular works  like  Shelley's  Adonais,  Burke's 
Present  Discontents,  and  the  Lyrical  Ballads,  is 
equivalent  to  the  History  of  the  English  language, 
the  Gospel  of  St.  Mark  in  Gothic,  the  Beoiculf, 
and  a  volume  of  extracts  in  Anglo-Saxon,  King 
Horn,  Havelok,  Sir  Gawain,  and  the  prologue 
and  seven  passus  of  Piers  Ploughman  in  Middle 
English,  is  palpably  absurd.  If  by  "  equal 
weight "  be  meant  that  an  examiner  is  to  assign 
equal  marks  to  candidates  who  distinguish  them- 
selves in  Literature,  and  to  candidates  who  dis- 
tinguish themselves  in  Language,  it  involves 
gross  injustice.  For  while  the  latter  have  every 
opportunity  for  displaying  knowledge  and  com- 
petence, the  former  have  not.  If  a  student  has 
literary  tastes  and  sympathies,  if  he  is  convers- 
ant with  the  Classics,  if,  attracted  by  what  is  best 
not  merely  in  our  own  but  in  other  modern  Liter- 
atures, he  has  indulged  himself  in  their  study, 
if  he  has  made  himself  a  good  critic  and  acquired 
a  good  style,  what  chance  has  he  of  doing  his 
attainments  and  accomplishments  justice  ?  But 
if  it  be  meant  that  "  equal  weight "  will  be  given, 

71 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

not  to  literary  merit  regarded  as  Sainte-Beuve 
and  Matthew  Arnold  would  regard  it,  but  re- 
garded in  relation  to  the  standard  indicated  by 
the  regulations  of  the  School,  then  the  philo- 
logists would  have  just  reason  to  complain. 

As  the  constitution  of  this  School  is  still  open 
to  amendment,  it  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped  that 
Oxford  will  see  its  way  to  reconsidering  a  matter 
so  seriously  aifecting  the  interests  of  education 
and  culture.  It  is  neither  too  late  to  remedy 
what  has  been  done,  nor  to  devise  a  remedy. 
Let  it  be  remembered  that  there  is  an  essential 
distinction  between  what  should  constitute  an 
Honour  School  and  what  should  constitute  a  Pass 
School,  between  what  is  to  educate  those  who 
are  to  educate  others,  and  what  guarantees 
nothing  more  than  a  smattering.  The  present 
institution  could  be  reformed  in  two  ways.  By 
reducing  the  philological  part  of  its  provisions 
to  the  level  of  the  literary  part,  it  could,  with  a 
little  further  simplification,  be  made  into  an 
excellent  Pass  School,  which  would  supply  a  real 
want.  By  eliminating  the  literary  part,  and 
adding  proportionately  to  the  philological,  it 
could  be  transformed  into  a  perfectly  satisfac- 
tory Honour  School  of  Modern  Languages.  But 
no  modification  could  make  it  into  an  Honour 
School  of  English  Literature  correspondingly 
adequate,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  study 
of  English  Literature  cannot  be  isolated  from 
the  study  of  those  literatures  with  which  it  is 

72 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

inseparably  linked.  The  absurdity  of  assuming 
that  the  student  of  Philology  oould  separate  a 
single  language  or  dialect  from  the  group  to 
which  it  belongs,  that  he  could  isolate  Anglo- 
Saxon  from  Gothic,  or  Middle  English  from 
Anglo-Saxon,  the  Celtic  of  the  Cymbry  from  the 
Celtic  of  the  Gaels,  is  not  greater  than  to  assume 
that  the  study  of  our  Literature  can  be  severed 
from  the  study  of  those  literatures  which  stand 
in  precisely  the  same  relation  to  it  as  one  of 
those  dialects  stands  to  the  others  in  the  same 
group. 

If  the  legislators  of  this  School  decline  to 
reform  it,  then  it  is  the  duty  of  Oxford — a  duty 
which  she  owes  alike  to  education  and  to  her 
own  honour — to  counteract  the  mischief  which 
this  institution  must,  by  degrading  throughout 
England  and  the  colonies  the  whole  level  of 
liberal  instruction  and  study  on  its  most  import- 
ant side,  inevitably  do.  To  the  herd  of  imper- 
fectly and  erroneously  disciplined  teachers  which 
this  institution  will  turn  loose  on  education,  let 
her  oppose,  at  least,  a  minority  which  shall 
worthily  represent  her.  Let  her  establish  a 
proper  degree  or  diploma  in  Literature.  There 
exist,  as  we  have  already  said,  scattered  through- 
out the  various  institutions  of  the  University, 
nearly  all  the  facilities  for  a  complete  course  in 
this  subject,  and  nothing  more  is  needed  than  to 
encourage  and  render  possible  their  co-ordina- 
tion.    Let  it  be  open  to  a  man  who  has  obtained 

73 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

a  high  class  in  Moderations  and  in  the  Final 
Classical  Schools,  who  has  availed  himself  of  the 
opportunities  offered  for  the  study  of  Modern 
Languages  and  Literatures  in  the  Taylorian  In- 
stitute, and  who  has  studied  what  he  would  at 
present  have  to  study  for  himself,  our  own 
Literature — let  it  be  open  to  him  to  present  him- 
self for  examination  in  these  subjects,  and  to 
obtain,  as  the  result  of  such  an  examination,  a 
degree  analogous  to  the  Bachelorship  of  Civil 
Law.  It  would  no  doubt  not  be  possible  for 
these  studies  to  be  pursued,  systematically,  side 
by  side  with  the  work  required  for  a  high  class 
in  Moderations  and  lAterce  Humaniores.  Nor  is 
it  necessary.  There  need  be  no  limit  assigned 
to  the  time  at  which  a  candidate  would  be  free 
to  qualify  himself  for  obtaining  this  diploma. 
As  a  general  rule  it  would  probably  be  about 
six  months,  possibly  a  year,  after  the  attainment 
of  the  present  degree  in  Arts.  And,  considering 
the  high  prizes  open  to  teachers  in  Literature,  it 
would  be  well  worth  a  student's  while  to  spend 
this  additional  time  in  preparing  himself  for  the 
examination.  If  a  post-graduate  scholarship, 
analogous  to  the  Craven  or  the  Derby  scholar- 
ships, could  be  founded  for  the  encouragement 
of  a  comparative  study  of  Classical  and  Modern 
Literature,  an  important  step  would,  at  any  rate, 
be  taken  in  a  right  direction  ;  something  would 
be  done  for  the  competent  equipment  of  future 
Professors  of  Literature. 

74 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

Thu8  would  a  precedent,  disastrous  beyond 
expression  to  the  interests  of  liberal  instruction 
and  culture,  as  well  as  to  the  reputation  of  the 
University — we  mean  the  severance  of  the  study 
of  Classical  Literature  from  that  of  our  own — be 
at  least  deprived  of  its  authority.  Thus  would 
the  mass  at  any  rate  be  leavened,  and  such  in- 
stitutions in  the  provinces  and  elsewhere  as  have, 
unlike  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  had  the  wisdom 
to  separate  their  Chairs  of  Language  and  Litera- 
ture, know  where  to  go  for  those  who  should  fill 
them ;  and  thus,  finally,  would  there  be  some 
chance  of  the  literary  curriculum  in  Oxford 
ceasing  to  be  a  by-word  in  the  Universities  of 
the  Continent  and  America. 

Since  the  first  edition  of  these  essays  appeared  the  liberality 
of  Mr.  John  Passmore  Edwards  has  supplied  the  scholarship 
here  desiderated,  and  Oxford  has  instituted  a  University 
scholarship,  bearing  the  donor's  name,  "  for  the  encourage- 
ment and  promotion  of  the  study  of  English  Literature  in 
connection  with  the  Classical  Literatures  of  Greece  and 
Rome." 


75 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE  AT  THE 
UNIVERSITIES ' 

XL     TEXT   BOOKS 

IF  any  proof  were  needed  of  what  has  been 
insisted  on  over  and  over  again,  that,  until 
the  Universities  provide  adequately  for  the  proper 
study  of  English  Literature — for  the  study  of  it 
side  by  side  with  Classical  Literature — there  will 
be  small  hope  of  its  finding  competent  critics  and 
interpreters,  it  would  be  afforded  by  the  volume 
before  us.  For  this  volume  the  delegates  of 
the  Oxford  University  Press  are  responsible ; 
and  in  allowing  it  their  imprimatur  they  have 
been  guilty  of  a  very  grave  error.  No  such 
standard  of  editing  would  have  been  tolerated 
in  any  other  subject  in  which  they  under- 
take to  provide  books.  A  work  pertaining  to 
Classics,  to  History,  to  Philosophy,  to  Science, 
marked  by  corresponding  deficiencies,  would 
have  been  suppressed  at  once,  until  those  defi- 

•  Shelley's  Adonais,  edited  with  introduction  and  notes  by 
William  Michael  Roasetti.    (Oxford :  at  the  Clarendon  Press.) 

76 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

ciencies  had  been  supplied.  To  Mr.  Rossetti 
himself  we  attach  no  blame.  What  he  was 
competent  to  do  he  has,  for  the  most  part,  done 
well  and  conscientiously, — conscientiously,  as  may 
be  judged  from  the  fact  that,  while  the  poem 
itself  occupies  twenty  pages  in  large  type,  Mr. 
Rossetti's  dissertations  and  notes  occupy  one 
hundred  and  twenty-eight  in  small  type.  It 
was,  indeed,  his  misfortune,  rather  than  his  fault, 
to  be  entrusted  with  a  work  which  required  a 
peculiar  qualification,  an  intimate  acquaintance, 
that  is  to  say,  with  Classical  Literature.  That 
he  has  no  pretension  to  this  is  abundantly  plain 
from  his  Introduction  and  from  every  page  of 
his  notes. 

When  one  of  the  Universities  undertakes  to 
provide  our  colleges  and  schools  with  comments 
and  notes  on  a  poem  so  saturated  with  classicism 
as  Adonais,  the  least  that  could  be  expected 
from  bodies  who  are,  as  it  were,  the  guardians 
of  classical  literature,  is  the  provision  that  the 
classical  part  of  the  work  should  be  done  at 
least  competently  ;  it  would  be  hardly  too  much, 
perhaps,  to  expect  that  it  should  be  done  excel- 
lently. Of  this  part  of  Mr.  Rossetti's  work  we 
scarcely  know  which  are  the  worse — his  sins  of 
commission  or  his  sins  of  omission.  His  classical 
qualifications  for  commenting  on  a  poem  as  un- 
intelligible, critically  speaking,  without  constant 
reference  to  the  Platonic  dialogues,  particularly 
to  the  Symposium  and  the  Tim,ceu8i  and  to  the 

77 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

Greek  poets,  as  the  ^neid  would  be  without 
reference  to  the  Homeric  poems  and  the  Argo- 
nautica  of  Apollonius,  appear  to  begin  and  end 
with  some  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Lang's  version 
of  Bion  and  Moschus.  We  will  give  a  few  speci- 
mens. Mr.  Rossetti  is  greatly  puzzled  with 
Shelley's  allusion  to  Urania  in  stanzas  2  to  4. 

"  Where  was  lone  CTrania 
When  Adonais  died  ?  " 

"  Most  musical  of  mourners,  weep  again . 
Lament,  anew,  Urania  !  " 

"  Why  out  of  the  nine  sisters,"  he  asks,  "  should 
the  Muse  of  Astronomy  be  selected  ?  Keats 
never  wrote  about  astronomy."  Perhaps,  he 
suggests,  Shelley  was  not  thinking  of  the  Muse 
Urania,  "  but  of  Aphrodite  Urania."  Yet,  if  so, 
why  should  she  be  called  "  musical  "  ? — a  ques- 
tion to  be  asked,  no  doubt,  as  our  old  friend  Fal- 
staff  would  say.  However,  after  balancing  the 
respective  claims  of  both,  he  finally  comes  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  Urania  of  Adonais  is  Aphro- 
dite. If  Mr.  Rossetti  had  been  acquainted  with 
a  work  to  which  he  never  even  refers,  but  which 
exercised  immense  influence  over  Shelley's  poem 
— the  SyrnposiuTn  of  Plato — it  would  have  saved 
him  two  pages  of  speculation.  His  ignorance  of 
this  is  the  more  surprising  as  Shelley  has  him- 
self translated  the  dialogue.  But  Mr.  Rossetti 
need  not,  in  this  case,  have  gone  so  far  afield. 
Has  he  never  read  the  prologue  to  the  seventh 

78 


AT    THE    UNIVBliSITIES 

book  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost  ?  In  his  note  on 
the  lines — 

"  The  one  remains,  the  many  change  and  pass," 

it  is  really  pitiable  to  find  him  supposing  that 
this  is  an  allusion  to  "  the  universal  mind,"  and 
"the  individuated  mirds  which  we  call  human 
beings,"  when  any  schoolboy  could  have  told 
him  that  the  allusion  is,  of  course,  a  technical 
one  to  the  Platonic  "  forms "  or  archetypes ; 
while  "  the  power  "  in  stanza  42,  the  "  sustain- 
ing love  "  in  stanza  54,  and  the  "  one  spirit "  in 
stanza  43,  are  allusions  respectively  to  the 
Aphrodite  Urania  in  the  discourse  of  Eryxi- 
machus  in  the  Symposium,  and  to  the  Divine 
Artificer  in  the  Timceus.  And  these  dialogues 
form  the  proper  commentary  on  Shelley's  meta- 
physics in  this  poem. 

Still  more  extraordinary  is  Mr.  Rossetti's  note 
on  "  wisdom  the  mirrored  shield  " — 

"  What  was  then 
Wisdom,  the    mirrored  shield?" 

(st.  27),  which  is  as  follows :  "  Shelley  was,  I 
apprehend,  thinking  of  the  Orlando  Furioso  of 
Ariosto  (!).  In  that  poem  we  read  of  a  magic 
shield  which  casts  a  supernatural  and  intolerable 
splendour  ...  a  sea  monster,  not  a  dragon, 
so  far  as  I  recollect,  becomes  one  of  the  victims 
of  the  mirrored  shield."  This  slovenly  and  per- 
functory mode  of  reference  is,  we  may  remark  in 
passing,  hardly  the  sort  of  thing  to  be  expected 

79 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

in  works  issued  from  University  Presses.  We 
wonder  what  the  Universities  would  say  to  an 
editor  of  Virgil  who,  in  commenting  on  some 
Homeric  allusion  in  his  author,  contented  him- 
self with  observing  that  Virgil  "  is  here  thinking 
of  the  Iliad,''  and,  "  so  far  as  I  can  recollect,"  etc. 
The  reference  is,  we  need  hardly  remark,  not  to 
any  magic  shield  in  the  Orlando,  but  to  the 
scutum  crystallinum  of  Pallas  Athene,  as  any 
well  -  informed  fourth  -  form  schoolboy  would 
know.  If  Mr.  Rossetti  will  turn  to  Bacon's 
Wisdom  of  the  Ancients,  chap,  vii.,  he  will  find 
some  information  on  this  subject,  which  may 
be  of  use  to  him,  should  this  work  run  into  a 
second  edition.  Take,  again,  the  note  on  the 
symbolism  of  the  flowers  and  cypress  cone  in 
stanza  33  : — 

"His  head  was  bound  with  pansies  overblown, 
And  fa.ded  violets,  white  and  pied  and  blue ; 
And  a  light  spear  topped  with  a  cypress  cone, 
Round  whose  rude  shaft  dark  ivy  tresses  grew." 

Here  the  editor's  ignorance  of  ancient  Classical 
Literature  has  led  him  into  a  whole  labyrinth  of 
blunders  and  misconceptions.  **  The  ivy,"  he 
says,  "  indicates  constancy  in  friendship  "  !  Is  it 
credible  that  a  Clarendon  Press  editor  should  be 
ignorant  that  ivy — doctarum,  hederos  prcemia 
frontium, — is  the  emblem  of  the  poet?  The 
violet,  he  remarks,  indicates  modesty.  It  neither 
indicates,  nor  can  possibly  indicate,  anything  of 
the  kind.     Its  traditional  signification,  deduced 

80 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

perhaps  from  Pliny's  remark  {Nat.  Hist,  xxi. 
c.  38),  that  it  is  one  of  the  longest-lived  of 
flowers,  is  fidelity.  But  the  passage  of  which 
Shelley  was  thinking  when  he  wrote  this  stanza 
— a  passage  to  which  Mr.  Rossetti  makes  no 
reference  at  all,  was  Hamlet,  act  iv.  sc.  1  : 
"  There  is  pansies  that's  for  thoughts  ...  I 
would  give  you  some  violets,  but  they  withered 
all  when  my  father  died."  So  that  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  the  "faded  violets,"  associated  as  these 
flowers  are  with  the  Muses  and  the  Graces,  merely 
symbolize  the  fading  and  drooping  towards  what 
may  be  further  symbolized  in  the  cypress  cone, 
— death.  We  are  by  no  means  sure,  however, 
that  the  cypress  cone  does,  as  Mr.  Rossetti  re- 
marks, "explain  itself."  Shelley,  assuming  he 
gave  the  image  another  application,  was  doubt- 
less thinking  of  Silvanus — "  teneram  ab  radice 
ferens,  Silvane,  cupressum,"  Georg.  i.  20  (see, 
too,  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene,  I.  vi.  st.  14),  and 
may  possibly  have  been  symbolizing  his  sym- 
pathy with  the  genius  of  the  woods — have  been 
referring  to  that  "  gazing  on  Nature's  naked 
loveliness,"  which  he  describes  in  stanza  .31.  In 
any  case,  Mr.  Rossetti  has  entirely  misinter- 
preted the  meaning  of  the  whole  passage. 

Wherever  classical  knowledge  is  required — as 
it  is  in  almost  every  stanza — he  either  gives  no 
not-e  at  all,  or  he  blunders.  Thus  in  stanza  24 
he  gives  no  note  on  the  use  of  the  word  "  secret." 
In  stanza  28  he  has  evidently  not  the  smallest 

E.C.  81  F 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

notion  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  obscene  " 
as  appHed  to  ravens.  The  fine  adaptations  from 
Lucretius  (II.  578-580)  in  stanza  21,  and  again 
from  IL  990-1010  in  stanzas  20  and  42;  the 
adaptation  from  the  Agamemnon  (49-51)  in 
stanza  17 ;  from  the  fragments  of  the  Polyidus 
of  Euripides  in  stanza  39  ;  from  the  Iliad  (vi. 
484)  in  stanza  34  ;  from  Theocritus,  Idyll.,  i.  66, 
and  Virg.,  Eel.,  x.  9-10  in  stanza  2  ;  and  again 
from  Theocritus,  Idyll.,  i.  77  seqq.,  from  which 
the  procession  of  the  mourners  is  adapted,  and 
on  which  the  whole  architecture  of  the  poem  is 
modelled — all  these  are  alike  unnoticed.  Nor  is 
Mr.  Rossetti  more  fortunate  in  explaining  allu- 
sions to  passages  in  other  literatures.  The  adap- 
tation of  the  sublime  passage  in  Isaiah  (xiv.  9, 10), 
by  which  one  of  the  finest  parts  of  the  poem 
was  suggested,  stanzas  45  and  46  ;  the  singular 
reminiscence  in  stanza  28 : — 

"  The  vultures 
.    .    .    Whose  wings  rain  contagion;" 

of  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta,  act  ii.  sc.  1,  where  he 
speaks  of  the  raven  which 

"Doth  shake  contagion  from  her  sable  wings;" 

the  obvious  reminiscence  of  Dante,  Inf.,  44  seqq. 
in  stanza  44  ;  of  Shakespeare's  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
V.  3,  which  forms  the  proper  commentary  on 
lines  7  and  8  of  stanza  3  ;  of  none  of  these  is 
any  notice  taken.  On  many  important  points 
of  interpretation  we  differ  toto  coelo  from  Mr. 

82 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

Rossetti.  The  "  fading  splendour,"  for  example, 
in  stanza  22,  cannot  possibly  mean  "  fading  as 
being  overcast  by  sorrow  and  dismay"  (cf. 
stanza  25),  it  simply  means  vanishing,  receding 
from  sight — a  magnificently  graphic  epithet. 
Is  Mr.  Rossetti  acquainted  with  the  proleptic 
use  of  adjectives  and  participles  ?  We  may  add 
that  Mr.  Rossetti  has  not  even  taken  the 
trouble  to  ascertain  who  was  the  writer  of  the 
famous  article,  of  which  so  much  is  said  both 
in  the  preface  of  the  poem  and  in  the  poem 
itself,  but  "  presumes,"  etc.  Et  sic  omnia.  And 
sic  omnia  it  will  inevitably  continue  to  be,  until 
the  Universities  are  prepared  to  do  their  duty 
to  education  by  placing  the  study  of  our 
national  Literature  on  a  proper  footing. 

It  is,  we  repeat,  no  reproach  to  Mr.  Rossetti, 
who  has  distinguished  himself  in  more  import- 
ant studies  than  the  production  of  scholastic 
text-books,  that  he  should  have  failed  in  an 
undertaking  which  happened  to  require  peculiar 
qualifications.  Indeed,  our  respect  for  Mr. 
Rossetti  and  our  sense  of  his  useful  services 
to  Belles  Lettres  would  have  induced  us  to 
spare  him  the  annoyance  of  an  exposure  of 
the  deficiencies  of  this  work,  had  it  not  illus- 
trated, so  comprehensively  and  so  strikingly,  the 
disastrous  effects  of  the  severance  of  the  study 
of  English  Literature  from  that  of  Ancient 
Classical  Literature  at  our  Universities. 


83 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE  AT  THE 
UNIVERSITIES ' 

III.     TEXT    BOOKS 

MORE  than  a  century  and  a  half  has  passed 
since  Pope  thus  expressed  himself  about 
philologists, — 

"  'Tis  true  on  words  is  still  our  whole  debate, 
Dispute  of  Me  or  Te,  of  aut  or  at, 
To  sound  or  sink  in  Cano  0  or  A, 
To  give  up  Cicero  or  C  or  K ; 
The  critic  eye,  that  microscope  of  wit. 
Sees  hairs  and  pores,  examines  bit  by  bit ; 
How  parts  relate  to  parts  or  they  to  whole, 
The  body's  harmony,  the  beaming  soul, 
Are  things  which  Kuster,  Burmann,  Wasse  shall  see, 
When  man's  whole  frame  is  obvious  to  a  Flea. " 

We  need  scarcely  say  that  we  have  far  too 
much  respect  for  Dr.  Aldis  Wright  and  for  his 
distinguished  coadjutor  to  apply  such  a  descrip- 
tion as  this  to  them  as  individuals,  for  no  one  can 
appreciate  more  heartily  than  we  do  their  monu- 
mental contribution  to  the  textual  criticism  of 

*  Shakespeare — Select  Plays.  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark 
(Oxford  :  at  the  Clarendon  Press,     mdcccxc.) 

84 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

Shakespeare,  but  we  can  make  no  such  reserve 
in  speaking  of  this  edition  of  Hamlet.  A  more 
deplorable  illustration,  we  do  not  say  of  the 
subjection  of  Literature  to  Philology,  for  that 
would  very  imperfectly  represent  the  fact,  but 
of  the  absolute  substitution  of  Philology,  and 
of  Philology  in  the  lowest  sense  of  the  term,  for 
Literature  it  would  be  impossible  to  imagine. 
Had  it  been  expressly  designed  to  prove  that  its 
editors  were  wholly  unconscious  of  the  artistic, 
literary,  and  philosophical  significance  of  Shake- 
speare's masterpiece,  it  could  scarcely  have  taken 
a  more  appropriate  form. 

The  volume  contains  117  pages  of  Shake- 
speare's text,  printed  in  large  type ;  the  text  is 
preceded  by  a  preface  of  twelve  pages,  and  fol- 
lowed by  notes  occupying  no  less  than  121  pages 
in  very  small  type ;  so  that  the  work  of  the 
poet  stands  in  pretty  much  the  same  relation  to 
that  of  his  commentators  as  Falstaffs  bread  stood 
to  his  sack.  In  the  case  of  a  play  like  Hamlet, 
so  subtle,  so  suggestive,  so  pregnant  with  critical 
and  philosophical  problems  of  all  kinds,  com- 
mentary on  a  scale  like  this  might  have  been 
quite  appropriate.  But  in  this  stupendous  mass 
of  exegesis  and  illustration  there  is,  with  the 
exception  of  one  short  passage,  literally  not  a 
line  about  the  play  as  a  work  of  art,  not  a  line 
about  its  structure  and  architecture,  about  its 
style,  about  its  relations  to  aesthetic,  about  its 
metaphysic,  its  ethic,  about  the  character  of 
Hamlet,  or  about  the  character   of  any  other 

85 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

person  who  figures  in  the  drama.  The  only 
indication  that  it  is  regarded  in  any  other  light 
than  as  affording  material  for  philological  and 
antiquarian  discussion  is  a  short  quotation, 
huddled  in  at  the  conclusion  of  the  preface, 
from  Goethe's  Wilhelm  Meister,  and  an  intima- 
tion that  "  Hamlet's  madness  has  formed  the 
subject  of  special  investigation  by  several  writers, 
among  others  by  Dr.  ConoUy  and  Sir  Edward 
Strachey." 

A  more  comprehensive  illustration  of  the 
truth  of  the  indictment  brought  against  philolo- 
gists by  Voltaire,  Pope,  Lessing,  and  Sainte- 
Beuve  than  is  supplied  by  the  notes  in  this  volume 
it  would  be  difficult  to  find.  Dulness,  of  course, 
may  be  assumed,  and  of  mere  dulness  we  do 
not  complain  ;  but  a  combination  of  prolixity, 
irrelevance,  and  absolute  incapacity  to  distin- 
guish between  what  to  ninety-nine  persons  in 
every  hundred  must  be  purely  useless  and  what 
to  ninety-nine  persons  in  every  hundred  is  the 
information  which  they  expect  from  a  com- 
mentator, is  intolerable.  We  will  give  a  few 
illustrations.  A  plain  man  or  a  student  for 
examination  comes  to  these  lines: — 

"  'Tis  the  sport  to  liave  the  enginer 
Hoist  with  his  own  petar;" 

and,  though  he  knows  what  the  general  sense  is 
wishes  to  know  exactly  what  Shakespeare  means. 
He  turns  to  the  note  for  enlightenment,  and  the 
enlightenment  he  gets  is  this  : — 

86 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

^  Enginer.  Changed  in  the  quarto  of  1676  to  the  more 
modem  form  of  engineer.  Compare  Troilus  and  Cressida  ii. 
8.  8,  '*  Then  there's  Achilles  a  rare  enginer."  For  a  cognate 
form  mutiner  see  note  on  iii.  4.  83.  So  we  have  pioner  for 
pioneer  Othello  iii.  3.  346.  Hoist  may  be  the  participle  either 
of  the  verb  *  hoise '  or  '  hoist.'  In  the  latter  case  it  would 
be  the  common  abbreviated  form  for  the  participles  of  verbs 
ending  in  a  dental.  Petar.  So  spelt  in  the  quartos,  and  by 
all  editors  to  Johnson,  who  writes  *  petards.'  In  Cotgrave 
we  have  '  Petart :  a  Petard  or  Petarre ;  an  Engine  (made 
like  a  bell  or  morter)  wherewith  strong  gates,'  etc."— 

And  so  the  hungry   sheep  looks  up  and  is  not 
fed.     Again,  he  finds — 

"He  smote  the  sledded  Polacks  on  the  ice," 

turns  to  the  note,  and  reads  : — 

"  Polacks.  The  quartos  have  '  pollax,'  the  two  earliest 
folios  read  '  Pollax,'  the  third  '  Polax,'  the  fourth  *  Poleaxe.' 
Pope  read  '  Polack '  and  Malone  '  Polacks.'  The  word  occurs 
four  times  in  Hamlet.  For  'the  sledded  Polacks'  Molke 
reads  '  his  leaded  pole-axe.'  But  this  would  be  an  anti- 
climax, and  the  poet,  having  mentioned  '  Norway '  in  the 
first  clause,  would  certainly  have  told  us  with  whom  the 
•parle'  was  held." 

The  poet  Young  noted  how 

"Commentators  each  dark  passage  shun. 
And  hold  their  farthing  candles  to  the  sun." 

The  Clarendon  Press  editors  are  certainly 
adepts  in  these  accomplishments.  Take  one  out 
of  a  myriad  illustrations.  The  line  in  Act  i.  sc. 
2,  "  The  dead  vast  and  middle  of  the  night,"  is 
the  signal  for  a  note  extending  to  twelve  closely 
printed  lines.     "  Tis  bitter  cold,  and  I  am  sick 

87 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

at  heart,"  says  Francisco.  If  any  note  were 
needed  here,  it  might  have  been  devoted  to 
pointing  out  to  tiros  the  fine  subjective  touch. 
The  note  is  this  : — 

^^  Bitter  cold.  Here  bitter  is  used  adverbially  to  qualify 
the  adjective  '  cold.'  So  we  have  '  daring  hardy '  in  Richard 
II.  i.  3.  43.  When  the  combination  is  likely  to  be  misunder- 
stood, modern  editors  generally  put  a  hyphen  between  the 
two  words.  Sick  at  heart.  So  Macbeth  v.  3.  19,  '  I  am  sick 
at  heart.'  We  have  also  in  Lovers  Labour^B  Lost  ii.  1.  185, 
'  sick  at  the  heart,'  and  Romeo  and  Juliet  iii.  3.  72,  *  heart- 
sick groans.' " 

Now  let  us  see  how  the  poor  student  fares 
when  real  difficulties  occur.  Every  reader  of 
Shakespeare  is  familiar  with  the  corrupt  passage, 
Act  iv.  sc.  1  : — 

"  The  dram  of  eale 
Doth  all  the  noble  substance  of  worth  out 
To  his  own  scandal — 

a  passage  which,  as  all  Shakespearian  scholars 
know,  has  been  satisfactorily  emended  and  ex- 
plained. We  turn  to  the  notes  for  guidance, 
and  find  ourselves  treated  as  poor  Mrs.  Quickly 
was  treated  by  Falstaff,  "  fubbed  off  " — thus  : — 

"  We  leave  this  hopelessly  corrupt  passage  as  it  stands  in 
the  two  earliest  quartos.  The  others  read  '  ease  '  for  '  eale,' 
and  modern  writers  have  conjectured  for  the  same  word 
base,  ill,  bale,  ale,  evil,  ail,  vile,  lead.  For  'of  a  doubt'  it 
has  been  proposed  to  substitute  '  of  worth  out,'  *  soul  with 
doubt,'  'oft  adopt,'  '  oft  work  out,'  'of  good  out,'  'of  worth 
dout,'  'often  dout,'  'often  doubt,'  'oft  adoubt,'  'oft  delase,- 
'  over-cloud,'  '  of  a  pound,'  and  others." 

This,  it  may  be  added,  is  the  sort  of  stuff — in- 

88 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

credibile  dictu — that  our  children  have  to  get  by 
heart ;  for  this  Press,  be  it  remembered,  practi- 
cally controls  half  the  English  Literature  ex- 
aminations in  England.  As  students  know 
quite  well  that  nine  examiners  out  of  ten  will 
set  their  questions  from  "  the  Clarendon  Press 
notes,"  it  is  with  "  the  Clarendon  Press  notes " 
that  they  are  obliged  to  cram  themselves.  But 
to  continue.  Even  a  well-read  man  might  be 
excused  for  not  knowing  the  exact  meaning  of 
the  following  expression  : — 

"  They  clepe  us  drunkards,  and  with  swinish  phrase 
Soil  our  addition." 

He  turns  to  the  notes,  and  having  been  briefly 
iflfftirmed  that  clepe  means  "  call,"  and  addition 
"  title,"  is  left  to  flounder  with  what  he  can  get 
out  of — "Could  Shakespeare  have  had  in  his 
mind  any  pun  upon  '  Sweyn,'  which  was  a  com- 
mon name  of  the  kings  of  Denmark  ? " 

Another  leading  characteristic  of  the  gernis 
philologist,  we  mean  the  preposterous  importance 
attached  by  them  to  the  smallest  trifles,  finds 
ludicrous  illustration  in  the  following  note : — 

"  My  father,  in  his  habit,  as  he  lived ! " 
exclaims    Hamlet  to    his   mother.     This   is    the 
signal  for : — 

"  There  is  supposed  to  be  a  difficulty  in  these  words,  because 
in  the  earlier  scenes  the  Ghost  is  in  his  armour,  to  which  the 
word  'habit'  is  regarded  as  inappropriate.  In  the  earlier 
form  of  the  play,  as  it  appears  in  the  quarto  of  1603,  the 
Ghost  enters  '  iu  his  nightgowne,'  and  as  the  words  '  in  the 

89 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

habit  as  he  lived  '  occur  in  the  corresponding  passage  of  that 
edition,  it  is  probable  that  on  this  occasion  the  Ghost  appeared 
in  the  ordinary  dress  of  the  king,  although  this  is  not  indi- 
cated in  the  stage  directions  of  the  other  quartos  or  of  the 
folios." 

As  a  possible  solution  of  this  grave  difficulty, 
we  would  suggest  that,  as  the  Ghost  was  un- 
doubtedly in  a  very  hot  place,  he  might  have 
found  his  nightgown  less  oppressive  than  his 
armour,  and  though  it  would  certainly  have  been 
more  decorous  to  have  exchanged  his  night- 
gown for  his  uniform  on  revisiting  the  earth, 
yet,  as  the  visit  was  to  his  wife,  he  thought 
perhaps  less  seriously  about  his  apparel  than  our 
editors  have  done.  We  have  nothing  to  warrant 
us  in  assuming  that  he  was  in  his  "  ordinary 
dress."  The  choice  must  lie  between  the  night- 
gown and  the  armour.  But  a  truce  to  jesting. 
K  any  one  would  understand  the  opacity  and 
callousness  which  philological  study  induces,  we 
would  refer  them  to  the  note  on  Hamlet's  last 
sublime  words,  "  The  rest  is  silence  "  : — 

"  The  quartos  have  '  Which  have  solicited,  the  rest  is 
silence.'  The  folios,  'Which  have  solicited.  The  rest  is 
silence.'  O,  O,  0,  O.  Dyes.''  If  Hamlet's  speech  is  inter- 
rupted by  his  death  it  would  be  more  natural  than  the  words 
*  The  rest  is  silence '  should  be  spoken  by  Horatio." 

We  said  at  the  beginning  of  this  article  that 
there  was  not  a  word  of  commentary  on  the 
poetical  merits  of  the  play.  We  beg  the  editors' 
pardon.     They  have   in   one   note,    and    in  one 

90 


AT    THE    UNIVERSITIES 

note  only,  ventured  on  an  expression  of  critical 
opinion.     We  all  know  the  linos — 

"  There  is  a  willow  grows  aslant  a  brook 
That  shows  his  hoar  leaves  in  the  glassy  stream," 

etc.,  etc.  We  transcribe  the  note  on  this  passage 
that  it  may  be  a  sign  to  all  men  of  what  Philo- 
logy is  able  to  efiFect,  an  omen  and  testimony  of 
what  must  inevitably  be  the  fate  of  Literature 
if  the  direction  and  regulation  of  its  study  be 
entrusted  to  philologists  : — 

"  This  speech  of  the  Queen  is  certainly  unworthy  of  its 
author  and  of  the  occasion.  The  enumeration  of  plants  is 
quite  as  unsuitable  to  so  tragical  a  scene  as  the  description 
of  Dover  cliff  in  King  Lear  iv.  6.  11-24.  Besides  there  was 
no  one  by  to  witness  the  death  of  Ophelia,  else  she  would 
have  been  rescued." 

As  this  beggars  commentary,  transcription 
shall  suffice. 

Now  we  would  ask  any  sensible  person 
who  has  followed  us,  we  do  not  say  in  our 
own  remarks — for  they  may  be  supposed  to  be 
the  expression  of  biassed  opinion — but  in  the 
specimens  we  have  given  of  such  an  edition  as 
this  of  Hamlet,  and  of  such  an  edition  as  we 
have  just  reviewed  of  Adonais,  what  is  likely  to 
be  the  fate  of  English  Literature,  as  a  subject  of 
teaching,  so  long  as  our  Universities  ignore  their 
responsibilities  as  the  centres  of  culture  by  not 
only  countenancing,  but  assisting  in  the  pro- 
duction and  dissemination  of  such  publications 
as  these  ?     How   can  we  expect   anything  but 

91 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

anarchy  wherever  the  subject  is  treated  ? — there 
an  extreme  of  flaccid  dilettantism,  here  an  ex- 
treme of  philological  pedantry.  Conceive  the 
tone  and  temper  which,  especially  at  the  impres- 
sionable age  of  the  students  for  whom  the  book 
is  intended,  the  study  of  Shakespeare,  under  such 
guides  as  the  editors  of  this  Hamlet,  would  be 
likely  to  induce.  Is  it  not  monstrous  that  young 
students  between  the  ages  of  about  fifteen  and 
eighteen  should  have  such  text  books  as  these 
inflicted  on  them  ? 

The  radical  fault  of  those  who  regulate  educa- 
tion in  our  Universities  and  elsewhere,  and  pre- 
scribe our  schoolbooks,  is  their  deplorable  want 
of  judgment.  They  seem  to  be  utterly  incapable 
of  distinguishing  between  what  is  proper  for 
pure  specialists  and  what  is  proper  for  ordinary 
students.  There  is  not  a  page  in  this  edition 
which  does  not  proclaim  aloud,  that  it  could  never 
have  been  intended  for  the  purposes  to  which  it 
has  been  applied,  that  it  is  the  work  of  technical 
scholars,  concerned  only  in  textual  and  philo- 
logical criticism  and  exegesis,  and  appealing 
only  to  those  who  approach  the  study  of  Shake- 
speare in  the  same  spirit  and  from  the  same 
point  of  view.  Anything  more  sickening  and 
depressing,  anything  more  calculated  to  make  the 
name  of  Shakespeare  an  abomination  to  the  youth 
of  England  it  would  be  impossible  for  man  to 
devise.  It  is  shameful  to  prescribe  such  books  for 
study  in  our  Schools  and  Educational  Institutes. 

92 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

I.    A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH 
LITERATURE  ^ 

THIS  Short  History  is  evidently  designed  for 
the  use  of  serious  readers,  for  the  ordinary 
reader  who  will  naturally  look  to  it  for  general 
instruction  and  guidance  in  the  study  of  English 
Literature,  and  to  whom  it  will  serve  as  a  book 
of  reference  ;  for  students  in  schools  and  colleges, 
to  many  of  whom  it  will,  in  all  likelihood,  be 
prescribed  as  a  textbook ;  for  teachers  engaged 
in  lecturing  and  in  preparing  pupils  for  examina- 
tion. Of  all  these  readers  there  will  not  be  one 
in  a  hundred  who  will  not  be  obliged  to  take  its 
statements  on  trust,  to  assume  that  its  facts  are 
correct,  that  its  generalizations  are  sound,  that  its 
criticisms  and  critical  theories  are  at  any  rate  not 
absurd.  It  need  hardly  be  said  that,  under  these 
circumstances,  a  writer  who  had  any  pretension 
to  conscientiousness  would  do  his  utmost  to 
avoid  all  such  errors  as  ordinary  diligence  could 
easily  prevent,  that  he  would  guard  scrupulously 
against  random  assertions  and  reckless  misstate- 

'  A  Short  History  of  English  Literature.  By  George 
Saintsbury,  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature  in 
the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

9.3 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

ments,  that  he  would,  in  other  words,  spare  no 
pains  to  deserve  the  confidence  placed  in  him  by 
those  who  are  not  qualified  to  check  his  state- 
ments or  question  his  dogmas,  and  who  naturally 
suppose  that  the  post  which  he  occupies  is  a 
sufficient  guarantee  of  the  soundness  and  ac- 
curacy of  his  work.  But  so  far  from  Professor 
Saintsbury  having  any  sense  of  what  is  due  to 
his  position  and  to  his  readers,  he  has  imported 
into  his  work  the  worst  characteristics  of  irre- 
sponsible journalism  :  generalizations,  the  sole 
supports  of  which  are  audacious  assertions,  and 
an  indifference  to  exactness  and  accuracy,  as 
well  with  respect  to  important  matters  as  in 
trifles,  so  scandalous  as  to  be  almost  incred- 
ible. 

Sir  Thomas  More  said  of  Tyndale's  version  of 
the  New  Testament  that  to  seek  for  errors  in  it 
was  to  look  for  drops  of  water  in  the  sea.  What 
was  said  very  unfairly  of  Tyndale's  work  may  be 
said  with  literal  truth  of  Professor  Saintsbury's. 
The  utmost  extent  of  the  space  at  our  disposal 
will  only  suffice  for  a  few  illustrations.  We  will 
select  those  which  appear  to  us  most  typical. 
In  the  chapter  on  Anglo-Saxon  literature  the 
Professor  favours  us  with  the  astounding  state- 
ment, that  in  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  "  there  is 
practically  no  lyric."  ^  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  say  that  not  only  does  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
*  Page  37. 

94 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

abound  in  lyrics,  but  that  it  is  in  its  lyrical  note 
that  its  chief  power  and  charm  consists.  In  the 
threnody  of  the  Ruin,  and  the  Grave,  in  the 
sentimental  pathos  of  the  Seafarer,  of  Deora 
Complaint,  and  of  the  remarkable  fragment 
describing  the  husband's  pining  for  his  wife,  in 
the  fiery  passion  of  the  three  great  war-songs, 
in  the  glowing  subjective  intensity  of  the  Judith, 
in  the  religious  ecstasy  of  the  Holy  Rood  and 
of  innumerable  passages  in  the  other  poems  at- 
tributed to  Cynewulf,  and  of  the  poem  attributed 
to  CflBdmon,  deeper  and  more  piercing  lyric  notes 
have  never  been  struck.  Take  such  a  passage 
as  the  following  from  the  Satan,  typical,  it  may 
be  added,  of  scores  of  others : — 

•*  O  thou  glory  of  the  Lord !    Guardian  of  Heaven's  hosts, 
0  thou  might  of  the  Creator !    O  thou  mid-circle ! 
O  thou  bright  day  of  splendour !    O  thou  jubilee  of  God ! 
O  ye  hosts  of  angels !    0  thou  highest  heaven ! 
O  that  I  am  shut  from  the  everlasting  jubilee, 
That  I  cannot  reach  my  hands  again  to  Heaven, 
.    .    .    Nor  hear  with  ray  ears  ever  again 
The  clear-ringing  harmony  of  the  heavenly  trumpets."' 

'  E&  1&  drihtenes  l>rym !  ek  1&  dugu'Sa  helm ! 
ek  1&  meotodes  miht !  ek  \k  middaneard ! 
ek  \k  d&g  le6hta!  ek  Ik  dre&m  godes! 
ek  Ik  engla  >re&t !  ek  \k  upheofon ! 
ek  \k  \>&t  ic  eam  ealles  le&s  §can  dre&mes, 
t>&t  ic  mid  handum  ne  m&g  heofon  geraecan 
ne  mid  eagum  ne  mot  up  locian 
ne  h(iru  mid  e&rum  ne  sceal  sefre  gehdran 
l>SBre  byrhtostan  bSman  stefne. 

—Satan,  edit.  Grein,  164-172. 
95 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

And  this  is  a  poetry  which  has  "  practically  no 
lyric "  !  On  page  2  the  Professor  tells  us  that 
there  is  no  rhyme  in  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  ;  on 
page  18  we  find  him  giving  an  account  of  the 
rhyming  poem  in  the  Exeter  Book.  Of  Mr.  Saints- 
bury's  method  of  dealing  with  particular  works 
and  particular  authors,  one  or  two  examples 
must  suffice.  He  tells  us  on  page  125  that  the 
heroines  in  Chaucer's  Legend  of  Good  Women 
are  "the  most  hapless  and  blameless  of  Ovid's 
Heroides."  It  would  be  interesting  to  know 
what  connexion  Cleopatra,  whose  story  comes 
first,  has  with  Ovid's  Heroides,  or  if  the  term 
"Heroides"  be,  as  it  appears  to  be,  (for  it  is 
printed  in  italics)  the  title  of  Ovid's  Heroic 
Epistles,  what  connexion  four  out  of  the  ten 
have  with  Ovid's  work.  In  any  case  the  state- 
ment is  partly  erroneous  and  wholly  misleading. 
In  the  account  given  of  the  Scotch  poets,  the 
Professor,  speaking  of  Douglas'  translation  of 
the  ^neid,  says,  he  "  does  not  embroider  on  his 
text."  This  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  the 
confidence  which  may  be  placed  in  Mr.  Saints- 
bury's  assertions  about  works  on  which  most 
of  his  readers  must  take  what  he  says  on  trust. 
Douglas  is  continually  "embroidering  on  his 
text,"  indeed,  he  habitually  does  so.  We  open 
his  translation  purely  at  random ;  we  find  him 
turning  JEneid  II.  496-499  :— 

"  Non  sic,  aggeribus  ruptis  cum  spumeus  amnis 
Exiit,  oppositasque  evicit  gurgite  moles," 
96 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

Fertur  in  arva  furens  cumulo,  cainposque  per  omnea 
Cum  stabulis  armenta  trahit. 

Not  sa  fersly  the  fomy  river  or  flude 

Brekkis  over  the  bankis  on  spait  quhen  it  is  wode. 

And  with  his  brusch  and  fard  of  water  brown 

The  dykys  and  the  sohorys  betis  down, 

Ourspreddand  croftis  and  flattis  wyth  hys  spate 

Our  all  the  feyldis  that  they  may  row  ane  bate 

Quhill  houssis  and  the  flokkis  flittis  away, 

The  come  grangis  and  standard  stakkys  of  hay." 

We  open  Mneid  IX.  2  : — 

"Irim  de  ccelo  misit  Saturnia  Juno 
Audacem  ad  Tumum.    Luco  turn  forte  parentis 
Pilumni  Turnus  sacrata  valle  sedebat. 
Ad  quem  sic  roseo  Thaumantias  ore  locuta  est." 

We  find  it  turned  : — 

"Juno  that  lyst  not  blyn 
Of  hir  auld  maljxe  and  iniquyto, 
Hir  madyn  Iris  from  hevin  sendys  sche 
To  the  bald  Turnus  malapart  and  stout ; 
Quhilk  for  the  tyme  was  wyth  al  his  rout 
Amyd  ane  vale  wonnder  lovn  and  law, 
Syttand  at  eys  within  the  hallowit  schaw 
Of  God  Pilumnus  his  progenitor. 
Tliaraantis  dochter  knelys  him  before, 
I  moyn  Iris  thys  ilk  fornamyt  maide, 
And  with  hir  rosy  lippis  thus  him  said." 

We  turn  to  the  end  of  the  tenth  j^neid  and 
we  find  him  introducing  six  lines  which  have 
nothing  to  correspond  with  them  in  the  original. 
And  this  is  a  translator  who  "  does  not  em- 
broider on  his  text "  !  It  is  perfectly  plain 
that    Professor   Saiutsbury   has    criticised    and 

E.C.  97  G 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

commented  on  a  work  which  he  could  never 
have  inspected.  The  same  ignorance  is  dis- 
played in  the  account  of  Lydgate.  He  is  pro- 
nounced to  be  a  versifier  rather  than  a  poet,  his 
verse  is  described  as  "  sprawling  and  stagger- 
ing." The  truth  is  that  Lydgate's  style  and 
verse  are  often  of  exquisite  beauty,  that  he  was 
a  poet  of  fine  genius,  that  his  descriptions  of 
nature  almost  rival  Chaucer's,  that  his  powers 
of  pathos  are  of  a  high  order,  that,  at  his  best, 
he  is  one  of  the  most  musical  of  poets.  We 
have  not  space  to  illustrate  what  must  be 
obvious  to  any  one  who  has  not  gone  to  encyclo- 
paedias and  handbooks  for  his  knowledge  of 
this  poet's  writings,  but  who  is  acquainted  with 
the  original.  It  will  not  be  disputed  that  Gray 
and  Warton  were  competent  judges  of  these 
matters,  and  their  verdict  must  be  substituted 
for  what  we  have  not  space  to  prove  and 
illustrate.  "I  do  not  pretend,"  Gray  says,  "to 
set  Lydgate  on  a  level  with  his  master  Chaucer, 
but  he  certainly  comes  the  nearest  to  him  of 
any  contemporary  writer  that  I  am  acquainted 
with.  His  choice  of  expression  and  the  smooth- 
ness of  his  verse  far  surpass  both  Gower  and 
Occleve."  Of  one  passage  in  Lydgate,  Gray  has 
observed  that  "  it  has  touched  the  very  heart 
strings  of  compassion  with  so  masterly  a  hand 
as  to  merit  a  place  among  the  greatest  poets."  ^ 
Warton  also  notices  his  "  perspicuous  and 
*  Some  Remarks  on  Lydgate.    Gray,  Aldine  Ed.  v.  292-321. 

98 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

musical  numbers,"  and  "  the  harmony,  strength, 
and  dignity  "  of  his  verses.* 

Turn  where  we  will  we  are  confronted  with 
blunders.  Take  the  account  given  of  Shake- 
speare. He  began  his  metre,  we  are  told,  with 
the  lumbering  "  fourteeners."  He  did,  so  far 
as  is  known,  nothing  of  the  kind.  Again  :  "  It 
is  only  by  guesses  that  anything  is  dated  before 
the  Comedy  of  Errors  at  the  extreme  end  of 
1594."  In  answer  to  this  it  may  be  sufficient 
to  say  that  Venv,s  and  Adonis  was  published 
in  1593,  that  the  first  part  of  Henry  VI.  was 
acted  on  3rd  March,  1592,  that  Titus  An- 
dronicus  was  acted  on  25th  January,  1594,  and 
that  Lucrece  was  entered  on  the  Stationers' 
books  9th  May,  1594.  This  is  on  a  par  with  the 
assertion,  on  page  315,  that  Shakespeare  was  tra- 
ditionally born  on  24th  April !  On  page  320  we 
are  told  that  Measure  for  Measure  belongs  to  the 
first  group  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  to  the  series 
beginning  with  Love's  Labour  s  Lost  and  culmina- 
ting with   the  Midsummer   Night's  Dream,.     It 

'  That  Lydgate's  verso  should  occasionally  be  rough  and 
halting  is  partly  to  bo  attributed  to  the  wretched  state  in 
which  his  text  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  copyists,  and 
partly  to  the  arbitrary  way  in  which  he  varies  the  accent. 
His  heroic  couplets  in  the  Storie  of  Thebes  are  certainly 
very  unmusical.  For  the  whole  question  of  his  versification 
see  Dr.  Schick,  Introduction  to  his  edition  of  T7ie  Temple  of 
Glas,  pp.  liv.-lxiii.,  and  Schipper,  Altenglische  Metrik,  492- 
500.  But  neither  of  these  scholars  does  justice  to  the  ex- 
quisite music  of  his  verse  at  its  liest. 

99 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

is  only  fair  to  say  that  the  Professor  places  a 
note  of  interrogation  after  it  in  a  bracket,  but 
that  it  should  have  been  placed  there,  even 
tentatively,  shows  an  ignorance  of  the  very 
rudiments  of  Shakespearian  criticism  which  is 
nothing  short  of  astounding.  Take,  again,  the 
account  given  of  Burke.  Our  readers  will  prob- 
ably think  us  jesting  when  we  tell  them  that 
Professor  Saintsbury  gravely  informs  us  that 
Burke  supported  the  American  Revolution.  Is 
the  Professor  unacquainted  with  the  two  finest 
speeches  which  have  ever  been  delivered  in  any 
language  since  Cicero?  Can  he  possibly  be 
ignorant  that  Burke,  so  far  from  supporting 
that  revolution,  did  all  in  his  power  to  prevent 
it?  The  whole  account  of  Burke,  it  may  be 
added,  teems  with  inaccuracies.  The  American 
Revolution  was  not  brought  about  under  a 
Tory  administration.  What  brought  that 
revolution  about  was  Charles  Townshend's  tax, 
and  that  tax  was  imposed  under  a  Whig  adminis- 
tration, as  every  well-informed  Board-school  lad 
would  know.  Burke  did  not  lose  his  seat  at 
Bristol  owing  to  his  support  of  Roman  Catholic 
claims.  If  Professor  Saintsbury  had  turned  to 
one  of  the  finest  of  Burke's  minor  speeches — the 
speech  addressed  to  the  electors  of  Bristol — he 
would  have  seen  that  Burke's  support  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  claims  was  only  one,  and  that 
not  the  most  important,  of  the  causes  which  cost 
him  his  seat.     Similar  ignorance  is  displayed  in 

100 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

the  remark  (p.  629)  that  "  Burke  joined,  and 
indeed  headed,  the  crusade  against  Warren 
Hastings,  in  1788."  The  prosecution  of  Warren 
Hastings  was  undertaken  on  Burke's  sole  initia- 
tive, not  in  1788,  but  in  1785.  A  few  lines 
onwards  we  are  told  that  the  series  of  Burke's 
writings  on  the  French  Revolution  "  began  with 
the  Refiections  in  1790,  and  was  continued  in  the 
Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord,  1790.  A  Letter  to  a  Noble 
Lord  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  French  Revo- 
lution, except  collaterally  as  it  affected  Burke's 
public  conduct,  and  appeared,  not  in  1790,  but 
in  1795. 

It  seems  impossible  to  open  this  book  anywhere 
without  alighting  on  some  blunder,  or  on  some 
inaccuracy.  Speaking  (p.  277)  of  Willoughby's 
well-known  Avisa,  the  Professor  observes  that 
nothing  is  known  of  Willoughby  or  of  Avisa. 
If  the  Professor  had  known  anything  about  the 
work,  he  would  have  known  that  Avisa  is  sim- 
ply an  anagram  made  up  of  the  initial  letters  of 
Amans,  vxor,  inviolata  semper  amanda,  and  that 
nothing  is  known  of  Avisa  for  the  simple  reason 
that  nothing  is  known  of  the  site  of  More's  Utopia. 
On  page  360  we  are  told  that  Phineas  Fletcher's 
Piscatory  Eclogues,  which  are,  of  course,  con- 
founded with  his  Sicelides,  are  a  masque  ;  on  page 
624,  but  this  is  perhaps  a  printer's  error,  that 
Robertson  wrote  a  history  of  Charles  I.  On 
page  482,  John  Pomfret,  the  author  of  one  of 
the  most  popular  poems  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 

101 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

tury,  is  called  Thomas.  On  page  550,  Pope's 
Moral  Essays  are  described  as  -4n  Epistle  to 
Lord  Burlington,  presumably  because  the  last 
of  them,  the  fourth,  is  addressed  to  that  noble- 
man. On  page  587  we  are  told  that  Mickle  died 
in  London  :  he  died  at  Forest  Hill,  near  Oxford. 
On  page  556  we  are  informed  that  Prior  was 
part  author  of  a  parody  of  the  "  Hind  and 
Panther,"  and  that  he  was  "  imprisoned  for 
some  years."  The  work  referred  to  is  wrongly 
described,  as  it  only  contained  parodies  of  certain 
passages  in  Dryden's  poem,  and  he  was  in  con- 
finement less  than  two  years.  On  page  358, 
Brutus,  the  legendary  founder  of  Britain,  is 
actually  described  as  the  son  of  ^neas.  If  Pro- 
fessor Saintsbury  were  as  familiar  as  he  affects 
to  be  with  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  with  Layamon 
and  with  the  early  metrical  romances,  he  would 
have  known  that  Brutus  is  fabled  to  have  been 
the  son  of  Sylvius,  the  son  of  Ascanius,  and,  con- 
sequently, the  great-grandson  of  ^neas.  Many 
of  the  Professor's  critical  remarks  can  only  be 
explained  on  the  supposition  that  he  assumes 
that  his  readers  will  not  take  the  trouble  to 
verify  his  references  or  question  his  dogmas. 
We  will  give  one  or  two  instances.  On  page 
468,  speaking  of  seventeenth-century  prose,  he 
says,  with  reference  to  Milton :  "  The  close  of  the 
Apology  itself  is  a  very  little,  though  only  a  very 
little,  inferior  to  the  Hydriotaphia."  By  the 
Apology   he   can    only   mean    the    Apology  for 

102 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

Smectymnuus,  for  the  defence  of  the  English 
people  i8  in  Latin.  Now,  will  our  readers  credit 
that  one  of  the  flattest,  clumsiest  and  most 
commonplace  passages  in  Milton's  prose  writ- 
ings, as  any  one  may  see  who  turns  to  it,  is 
pronounced  "  only  a  little  inferior  "  to  one  of 
the  most  majestically  eloquent  passages  in  our 
prose  literature.  That  our  readers  may  know 
what  Professor  Saintsbury's  notions  of  eloquence 
are,  we  will  transcribe  the  passage  : 

"Tims  ye  have  heard,  readers,  how  many  shifts  and  wiles 
the  prelates  have  invented  to  save  their  ill-got  booty.  And  if  it 
be  true,  as  in  Scripture  it  is  foretold,  that  pride  and  covetous- 
ness  are  the  sure  marks  of  those  false  prophets  which  are  to 
come,  then  boldly  conclude  these  to  be  as  great  seducers  as 
any  of  the  latter  times.  For  between  this  and  the  judgment  day 
do  not  look  for  any  arch  deceivers  who,  in  spite  of  reforma- 
tion, will  use  more  craft  or  less  shame  to  defend  their  love  of 
the  world  and  their  ambition  than  these  prelates  have  done. 
And  if  ye  think  that  soundness  of  reason  or  what  force  of 
argument  so  ever  shall  bring  them  to  an  ingenuous  silence, 
ye  think  that  which  shall  never  be.  But  if  ye  take  that 
course  which  Erasmus  was  wont  to  say  Luther  took  against 
the  pope  and  monks :  if  ye  denounce  war  against  their 
riches  and  their  bellies,  ye  shall  soon  discern  that  turban  of 
pride  which  they  wear  ujwn  their  heads  to  be  no  helmet  of 
salvation,  but  the  mere  metal  and  hornwork  of  papal  juris- 
diction ;  and  that  they  have  also  this  gift,  like  a  certain  kind 
of  some  that  are  possessed,  to  have  their  voice  in  their  bellies, 
which,  being  well  drained  and  taken  down,  their  great  oracle, 
which  is  only  there,  will  soon  be  dumb,  and  the  divine 
right  of  episcopacy  forthwith  expiring  will  put  us  no  more 
to  trouble  with  tedious  antiquities  and  disputes." 

And  this  is  "  a  very  little,  only  a  very  little, 
inferior,"  to  the  "  Hydriotaphia  "  ! 

103 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

On  page  652,  Swift's  style,  that  perfection  of 
simple,  unadorned  sermo  pedestris — is  described 
as  marked  by  "  volcanic  magnificence."  On 
page  300  Hooker  is  described  as  "having  an 
unnecessary  fear  of  vivid  and  vernacular  ex- 
pression." Vivid  and  vernacular  expression  is, 
next  to  its  stateliness,  the  distinguishing  cha- 
racteristic of  Hooker's  style.  It  would  be  in- 
teresting to  know  what  is  meant  by  the  re- 
mark on  page  445  that  Barrow's  style  is  "  less 
severe  than  South's."  Another  example  of  the 
same  thing  is  the  assertion  on  page  517  that 
Joseph  Glanville  is  one  of  "the  chief  ex- 
ponents of  the  gorgeous  style  in  the  seven- 
teenth century."  Very  'gorgeous'  the  style 
of  the  Vanity  of  Dogmatizing,  of  its  later 
edition  the  Scepsis  Scientifica,  of  the  Sadducis- 
mus  Triumphatus,  of  the  Lilx  Orientalis,  and  of 
the  Essays  ! 

Indeed,  the  Professor's  critical  dicta  are  as 
amazing  as  his  facts.  We  have  only  space  for 
one  or  two  samples.  Cowley's  Anacreontics  are 
"not  very  far  below  Milton "(!)  Dr.  Donne  was 
"  the  most  gifted  man  of  letters  next  to  Shake- 
speare." Where  Bacon,  where  Ben  Jonson, 
where  Milton  are  to  stand  is  not  indicated. 
Akenside's  stilted  and  frigid  Odes  "  fall  not  so 
far  short  of  Collins."  We  wonder  what  Mr. 
Saintsbury's  criterion  of  poetry  can  be.  But  we 
forget,  with  that  criterion  he  has  furnished  us. 
On   page    732,    speaking   of   "a   story   about   a 

104 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

hearer  who  knew  no  English,  but  knew  Tenny- 
son to  be  a  poet  by  the  hearing,"  he  adds  that 
"the  story  is  probable  and  valuable,  or  rather 
invaluable,  for  it  points  to  the  best  if  not  the 
only  criterion  of  poetry."  And  this  is  a  critic ! 
We  would  exhort  the  Professor  to  ponder  well 
Pope's  lines  : 

"But  most  by  numbers  judge  a  poet's  song, 
*  *  *  *  * 

In  the  bright  muse,  tho'  thousand  charms  conspire, 
Her  voice  is  all  these  tuneful  fools  admire, 
Who  haunt  Parnassus  but  to  please  their  ear." 

On  page  734  we  are  told  Browning's  James 
Lee — the  Professor  probably  means  James  Lee's 
Wife — is  amongst  "  the  greatest  poems  of  the 
century."  On  Wordsworth's  line,  judged  not  in 
relation  to  its  context,  but  as  a  single  verse — 
"  Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting  " — 
we  have  the  following  as  commentary:  "Even 
Shakespeare,  even  Shelley  have  little  more  of  the 
echoing  detonation,  the  auroral  light  of  true 
poetry";  very  "echoing,"  very  "detonating" — 
the  rhythm  of  "  Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a 
forgetting."  Mr.  Saintsbury's  notions  of  what 
constitutes  detonation  and  auroral  light  in 
poetry  appear  to  resemble  his  notions  of  what 
constitutes  eloquence  in  prose.  Nothing,  we  may 
add  in  passing,  is  more  amusing  in  this  volume 
than  Mr.  Saintsbury's  cool  assumption  of  equality 
as   a   critical  authority   with   such   a    critic   as 

105 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

Matthew  Arnold,  whom  he  sometimes  patronises, 
sometimes  corrects,  and  sometimes  assails.  The 
Professor  does  not  show  to  advantage  on  these 
occasions,  and  he  leaves  us  with  the  impression 
that  if  "  Mr.  Arnold's  criticism  is  piecemeal, 
arbitrary,  fantastic,  and  insane,"  the  criticism 
which  appears,  where  it  is  not  mere  nonsense, 
to  take  its  touchstones,  its  standards,  and  its 
canons  from  those  of  the  average  Philistine  is, 
after  all,  a  very  poor  substitute.  But  enough 
of  Mr.  Saintsbury's  "  criticism,"  which  is,  almost 
uniformly,  as  absurd  in  what  it  praises  as  in 
what  it  censures. 

The  style,  or,  to  borrow  an  expression  from 
Swift,  what  the  poverty  of  our  language  com- 
pels us  to  call  the  style,  in  which  this  book  is 
written,  is  on  a  par  with  its  criticism.  We  will 
give  a  few  examples.  "It  is  a  proof  of  the 
greatness  of  Dryden  that  he  knew  Milton  for 
a  poet ;  it  is  a  proof  of  the  smallness  (and 
mighty  as  he  was  on  some  sides,  on  others  he 
was  very  small)  of  Milton  that  (if  he  really  did 
so)  he  denied  poetry  to  Dryden."  ^  "  What  the 
Voyage  and  Travaile  really  is,  is  this — it  is,  so 
far  as  we  know,  and  even  beyond  our  know- 
ledge in  all  probability  and  likelihood,  the  first 
considerable  example  of  prose  in  English  deal- 
ing neither  with  the  beaten  track  of  theology 
and  philosophy,  nor  with  the,  even  in  the 
Middle    Ages,    restricted    field    of    history   and 

'  Page  474. 
106 


OUR    LITERARY     GUIDES 

home  topography,  but  expatiating  freely  on 
unguarded  plains  and  on  untrodden  hills,  some- 
times dropping  into  actual  prose  romance  and 
always  treating  its  subject  as  the  poets  had 
treated  theirs  in  Birut  and  Mort  d Arthur,  in 
Troy-hook  and  Alexandreid,  as  a  mere  canvas 
on  which  to  embroider  flowers  of  fancy."* 
Again,  "With  Anglo-Saxon  history  he  deals 
slightly,  and  despite  his  ardent  English  patriot- 
ism— his  book  opens  with  a  vigorous  panegyric 
of  England,  the  first  of  a  series  extending  to 
the  present  day  (from  which  an  anthology  De 
Laudibus  Anglice  might  be  made)  —  he  deals 
very  harshly  with  Harold  Godwinson."  *  "  He 
had  a  fit  of  stiff  Odes  in  the  Gray  and  Collins 
manner."  "  The  Hind  and  Panther  (the  greatest 
poem  ever  written  in  the  teeth  of  its  subject "). 
"  His  voluminous  Latin  works  have  been 
tackled  by  a  special  Wyclif  Society."  These 
are  a  few  of  the  gems  in  which  every  chapter 
abounds. 

Of  Professor  Saintsbury's  indifference  to  ex- 
actness and  accuracy  in  details  and  facts  we 
need  go  no  further  for  illustrations  than  to  his 
dates.  Such  things  cannot  be  regarded  as  trifles 
in  a  book  designed  to  be  a  book  of  reference. 
We  will  give  a  few  instances.  We  are  informed 
on  page  238  that  Ascham's  Schoolmaster  was 
published  in  1568  ;  it  was  published,  as  its  title- 
page  shows,  in  1570.  Hume's  Dissertations  were 
>  Page  150.  *  Page  63. 

107 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

first  published,  not  in  1762,  but  in  1757.  Bale's 
flight  to  Germany  was  not  in  1547,  when  such  a 
step  would  have  been  unnecessary,  but  in  1540. 
Pecock  was,  we  are  told,  translated  to  Chichester 
in  1550,  exactly  ninety  years  after  his  death ! 
As  if  to  perplex  the  readers  of  this  book,  two 
series  of  dates  are  given  ;  we  have  the  dates  in 
the  narrative  and  the  dates  in  the  index,  and  no 
attempt  is  made  to  reconcile  the  discrepancies. 
Accordingly  we  find  in  the  narrative  that 
Caxton  was  probably  born  in  1415 — in  the  index 
that  he  was  born  in  1422  ;  in  the  narrative  that 
Latimer,  Fisher,  Gascoign  and  Atterbury  were 
born  respectively  in  1489,  in  1465,  about  1537 
and  in  1672 — in  the  index  that  they  were  born 
respectively  in  1485,  1459,  1525  and  1662  ;  in 
the  narrative  Gay  was  born  in  1688 — in  the 
index  he  was  born  in  1685.  In  the  narrative 
Collins  dies  in  1756,  and  Mrs.  Browning  is  born 
in  1806 — in  the  index  Collins  dies  in  1759,  and 
Mrs.  Browning  is  born  in  1809.  The  narrative 
tells  us  that  Aubrey  was  born  in  1626,  and  John 
Dyer  circa  1688 — in  the  index  that  Aubrey  was 
born  in  1624  and  Dyer  circa  1700.  In  the  index 
Mark  Pattison  dies  in  1884 — in  the  narrative  he 
dies  in  1889.  In  Professor  Saintsbury's  eyes 
such  indifference  to  accuracy  may  be  venial  :  in 
our  opinion  it  is  nothing  less  than  scandalous. 
It  is  assuredly  most  unfair  to  those  who  will 
naturally  expect  to  find  in  a  book  of  reference 
trustworthy  information. 

108 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

We  must  now  conclude,  though  we  have  very 
far  from  exhausted  the  list  of  errors  and  mis- 
statements, of  absurdities  in  criticism  and 
absurdities  in  theory,  which  we  have  noted. 
Bacon  has  obser  ved  that  the  best  part  of  beauty 
is  that  which  a  picture  cannot  express.  It  may 
be  said,  with  equal  truth,  of  a  bad  book,  that 
what  is  worst  in  it  is  precisely  that  which  it  is 
most  difficult  to  submit  to  tangible  tests.  In 
other  words,  it  lies  not  so  much  in  its  errors 
and  inaccuracies,  which,  after  all,  may  be  mere 
trifles  and  excrescences,  but  it  lies  in  its  tone 
and  colour,  its  flavour,  its  accent.  Professor 
Saintsbury  appears  to  be  constitutionally  in- 
capable of  distinguishing  vulgarity  and  coarse- 
ness from  liveliness  and  vigour.  So  far  from 
having  any  pretension  to  the  finer  qualities  of 
the  critic,  he  seems  to  take  a  boisterous  pride  in 
exhibiting  his  grossness. 

If  our  review  of  this  book  shall  seem  unduly 
harsh,  we  are  sorry,  but  a  more  exasperating 
writer  than  Professor  Saintsbury,  with  his  in- 
difference to  all  that  should  be  dear  to  a  scholar, 
the  mingled  coarseness,  triviality  and  dogmatism 
of  his  tone,  the  audacious  nonsense  of  his  gen- 
eralisations, and  the  offensive  vulgarity  of  his 
diction  and  style — a  very  well  of  English  defiled 
— we  have  never  had  the  misfortune  to  meet 
with.  Turn  where  we  will  in  this  work,  to  the 
opinions  expressed  in  it,  to  the  sentiments,  to  the 
verdicts,  to  the  style,  the  note  is  the  same, — the 
note  of  the  Das  Gemeine. 

109 


OUR   LITERARY   GUIDES 

II.     A   SHORT   HISTORY   OF  MODERN 
ENGLISH   LITERATURE^ 

THE  author  of  this  work  has  plainly  not 
pondered  the  advice  of  Horace,  "  Sumite 
materiam  vestris,  qui  scribitis,  sequam  viribus." 
His  ambitious  purpose  is  "  to  give  the  reader, 
whether  familiar  with  books  or  not,  a  feeling  of 
the  evolution  of  English  Literature  in  the  primary 
sense  of  the  term,"  and  he  adds  that  "to  do  this 
without  relation  to  particular  authors  and  par- 
ticular works  seems  to  me  impossible."  This 
may  be  conceded  ;  for,  a  feeling  of  the  evolution 
of  English  or  of  any  other  literature,  without 
reference  to  particular  authors  and  particular 
books,  would  be  analogous  to  the  capacity  for 
feeling  without  anything  to  feel.  But,  unfor- 
tunately, those  of  Mr.  Gosse's  readers  who  wish 
to  have  the  feeling  to  which  he  refers  will 
merely  find  the  conditions  without  which,  as  he 
so  justly  observes,  the  said  feeling  is  impossible. 

*  A  Short  History  of  Modern  English  Literature.      By 
Edmund  Oosse.     London,  1898. 

110 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

In  other  words,  references,  in  the  form  of  loose 
and  desultory  gossip,  to  particular  authors  and 
particular  works  chronologically  arranged,  are 
all  that  represent  the  "  evolution "  of  which  he 
is  so  anxious  "  to  give  a  feeling." 

Described  simply,  the  work  is  an  ordinary 
manual  of  English  Literature  in  which,  with 
Mr.  Humphry  Ward's  English  Poets,  Sir  Henry 
Craik's  English  Prose  Writers,  Chambers'  Cyclo- 
pcedia  of  English  Literature,  the  Dictionary  of 
National  Biography,  and  the  like  before  him, 
the  writer  tells  again  the  not  unfamiliar  story 
of  the  course  of  our  Literature  from  Chaucer 
to  the  present  time.  But  Mr.  Gosse  is  no 
mere  compiler,  and  brings  to  his  task  certain 
qualifications  of  his  own,  a  vague  and  inac- 
curate but  extensive  knowledge  of  our  seven- 
teenth, eighteenth  and  nineteenth  century  Belles 
Lettres ;  and  here,  as  a  rule,  he  can  acquit  him- 
self creditably.  Though  far  from  a  sound,  he 
is  a  sympathetic  critic  ;  he  has  an  agreeable 
but  somewhat  affected  style,  and  can  gossip 
pleasantly  and  plausibly  about  subjects  which 
are  within  the  range  indicated.  But  at  this 
point,  as  is  painfully  apparent,  his  qualifications 
for  being  an  historian  and  critic  of  English 
Literature  end.  The  moment  he  steps  out  of 
this  area  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  his  handbooks  ; 
so  completely  at  their  mercy  that  he  does  not 
even  know  how  to  use  them.  And  it  is  here 
that  Mr.  Gosse  becomes  so  irritating,  partly  be- 
lli 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

cause  of  the  sheer  audacity  with  which  mere 
inferences  are  substituted  for  facts  and  simple 
assumptions  for  deduced  generalizations,  and 
partly  because  of  the  habitual  employment  of 
phraseology  so  vague  and  indeterminate  that 
it  is  difficult  to  submit  what  it  conveys  to  posi- 
tive test.  These  are  serious  charges  to  bring 
against  any  writer  ;  and  if  they  cannot  be  abun- 
dantly substantiated,  a  still  more  serious  charge 
may  justly  be  urged  against  the  accuser. 

To  turn  to  the  work.  On  page  85  Mr.  Gosse 
favours  us  with  the  following  account  of  the 
Faerie  Queene  :  "  A  certain  grandeur  which  sus- 
tains the  three  great  Cantos  of  Truth,  Temper- 
ance, and  Chastity  fades  away  as  we  proceed. 
.  .  .  The  structure  of  it  is  loose  and  incoher- 
ent when  we  compare  it  with  the  epic  grandeur 
of  the  masterpieces  of  Ariosto  and  Tasso."  It 
would  be  difficult  to  match  this ;  every  word 
which  is  not  a  blunder  is  an  absurdity.  Where 
are  "  the  three  great  Cantos  "  ?  Can  Mr.  Gosse 
possibly  be  ignorant  that  the  poem  is  divided 
into  books,  each  book  containing  twelve  Cantos  ? 
Assuming,  however,  that  he  has  confounded 
books  with  Cantos,  where  is  the  great  book 
dealing  with  '  Truth '  ?  As  he  places  it  before 
'  Temperance,'  we  presume  that  he  means  the 
first  book  and  that  he  has  confounded  '  Truth ' 
with  '  Holiness.'  This  is  pretty  well,  to  begin 
with.  Where,  we  next  ask  in  amazement, 
is  the  '  grandeur '  which  sustains  the  prolix 
farrago   of   the  third  book,   and    which    '  fades 

112 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

away '  as  we  proceed  to  the  only  book  which 
almost  rivals  the  first  and  second,  the  fifth, 
and  the  sublimest  portion  of  the  whole  work, 
the  superb  Cantos  which  represent  all  that 
remains  of  the  seventh?  What,  we  gasp,  is 
the  meaning  of  the  '  epic  grandeur '  of  Ariosto  ? 
and  "the  loose  and  incoherent  structure"  of  the 
Faerie  Queens  when  compared  with  that  of  the 
Orlando  Furioso?  Could  any  poem  be  more 
loose  and  incoherent  in  structure  than  the 
Orlando,  or  any  term  be  less  appropriate  to 
its  tone  and  style  than  *  grandeur '  ?  On  page 
80  he  actually  tells  us  that  Fox's  well-known 
Book  of  Martyrs  was  written  in  Latin  and  trans- 
lated by  John  Day,  and  that  it  is  John  Day's 
translation  of  the  Latin  original  which  repre- 
sents that  work,  confounding  Fox's  Commen- 
tarni  Rerum  in  Ecclesid  gestarum,  etc.,  printed 
at  Basil  with  the  Acts  and  Monuments  of  the 
Church,  and  making  John  Day,  the  publisher  of 
it,  the  translator  of  it  into  English !  And  this  is 
his  account  of  one  of  the  most  celebrated  works 
in  our  language.  Of  Swift's  Sentiments  of  a 
Church  of  England  Man,  we  have  the  following 
account :  *'  That  such  a  tract  as  the  Sentiments 
of  a  Church  of  England  Man,  with  its  gusts  of 
irony,  its  white  heat  of  preposterous  moderation, 
led  on  towards  Junius  is  obvious."  This  is  an 
excellent  example  of  the  confidence  which  may 
be  placed  in  Mr.  Gosse's  assertions.  Of  this 
pamphlet,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say  that  there 
E.C.  118  H 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

is  not  a  single  touch  of  irony  or  satire  in  it ;  that 
it  stands  almost  alone  among  Swift's  tracts  for 
its  perfectly  temperate  and  logical  tone ;  it  is  a 
calm  appeal  to  pure  reason.  There  is  the  same 
audacity  of  assertion  in  classing  Feltham's 
Resolves  with  Hall's  and  Overbury's  Character 
Sketches,  and  Earle's  Microcosmogonie  as  "a 
typical  example  "of  *'  a  curious  school  of  comic 
or  ironic  portraiture,  partly  ethical  and  partly 
dramatic."  In  1625,  we  are  told  that  Bacon 
completed  the  Sylva  Sylvarum.  If  Mr.  Gosse 
knew  anything  of  Bacon's  philosophical  writings, 
he  would  have  known  that  the  Sylva  Sylvarum 
never  was  and  never  could  have  been  completed, 
for  it  was  in  itself  a  fragment — a  mere  collection 
of  materials  to  be  incorporated  in  the  Phcenomena 
Universi,  a  work  which  was  to  have  been  six 
times  larger  than  Pliny's  Natural  History.  In 
giving  an  account  of  Tillotson,  he  speaks  of 
"  the  serene  and  insinuating  periods  "  of  the  ele- 
gant latitudinarian  who  "was  assiduous  in  say- 
ing what  he  had  to  say  in  the  most  graceful  and 
intelligible  manner  possible."  A  more  perfect 
description  of  the  very  opposite  of  Tillotson's 
style  could  hardly  be  given.  Those  who  are 
acquainted  with  Fuller's  writings  will  be  equally 
surprised  to  find  him  classed  with  Jeremy 
Taylor  and  Henry  More,  and  to  learn  that  his 
style  is  'florid  and  involved,'  distinguished  by 
its  *long-windedness'  and  'exuberance.'  Has  Mr. 
Gosse  no  apprehension  of  his  readers  turning  to 

114 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

the  originals  and  testing  his  statements?  We 
have  another  of  these  bold  assertions  in  the 
account  of  Lydgate,  derived,  we  suspect,  from 
a  hasty  generalization  from  a  remark  made 
about  him  in  Mr.  Ward's  British  Poets.  "Lyd- 
gate," says  Mr.  Gosse,  "  had  a  most  defective 
ear ;  his  verses  are  not  to  be  scanned.  His 
ear  was  bad  and  tuneless."  Any  one  who  has 
read  Lydgate  knows  that,  if  we  except  his 
heroic  couplets,  a  more  musical  poet  is  not  to 
be  found  in  the  fifteenth  century,  or,  indeed, 
in  our  language ;  the  softness  and  smoothness 
of  his  verse,  wherever  he  writes  in  stanzas, 
as  he  generally  does,  is  indeed  his  chief  charac- 
teristic. These  remarks  are  minor  illustra- 
tions of  an  accomplishment  in  which  Mr.  Gosse 
has  no  rival. 

The  Euphuists  of  the  sixteenth  century  drew, 
for  purposes  of  simile  and  illustration,  on  a 
fabulous  natural  history  which  assumed  the  ex- 
istence of  certain  animals,  herbs,  and  minerals, 
and  of  certain  properties  and  qualities  possessed 
by  them.  This  gave  great  point  and  pictur- 
esqueness  to  their  style,  and  though  it  was  cer- 
tainly misleading  and  occasionally  perplexing 
to  those  who  went  to  them  for  natural  history, 
it  had  a  most  charming  and  imposing  effect. 
Mr.  Gosse  seems  to  have  imported  a  similar 
fiction  into  criticism.  Of  this  we  have  a  most 
amusing   illustration   on    page    155.      Speaking 

115 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

of  Herrick  Mr.  Gosse  remarks,  "  In  the  midst 
of  these  extravagances,  like  Meleager  winding 
his  pure  white  violets" — the  Italics  are  ours — 
"into  the  gaudy  garland  of  late  Greek  Eu- 
phuisTn,  we  find  Robert  Herrick."  Meleager's 
Anthology  is  not  extant,  but  the  dedication 
is,  and  from  that  dedication  we  know  exactly 
from  what  poets  it  was  compiled.  It  ranged 
from  about  B.C.  700  till  towards  the  close  of 
the  Alexandrian  Age,  for,  with  the  exception 
of  Antipater  of  Sidon,  it  is  very  doubtful 
whether  he  inserted  any  epigrams  by  his  con- 
temporaries, but  he  admitted  a  hundred  and 
thirty-one  of  his  own.  In  other  words  his 
collection  comprised  epigrams  composed  by  the 
masters  preceding  the  Alexandrian  Age  from 
Archilochus  downwards,  and  by  those  who, 
during  that  age  and  afterwards,  cultivated 
with  scrupulous  care  the  simplicity  and  purity 
of  the  early  models.  Indeed,  the  poets  re- 
presented in  his  Anthology  are,  with  one  ex- 
ception, the  artists  of  Greek  epigram  in  its 
purest,  simplest,  and  chastest  form.  That  one 
exception  is  himself.  In  him  are  first  ap- 
parent the  dulcia  vitia  of  the  Decadence  ;  he 
is  full  of  dainty  subtleties,  he  is  almost  more 
Oriental  than  Greek,  his  style  is  luscious,  ela- 
borate and  florid.  Such,  then,  was  the  com- 
position of  *'  the  gaudy  garland  of  late  Greek 
Euphuism,"  and  such  the  nature  of  the  "pure 

116 


OUR  LITERARY  GUIDES 

white  violets"  wound  into  it  by  Meleager.  It 
is  amusing  to  trace  Mr.  Gosse's  rodomontade 
to  its  source.  In  the  well-known  dedication 
to  which  we  have  referred,  Meleager  prettily 
compares  the  various  poets,  from  whose  works 
he  selects,  to  flowers,  speaking  modestly  of 
his  own  contributions  as  "  early  white  violets." 
To  critics  like  Mr.  Gosse  the  rest  is  easy. 
Meleager,  he  no  doubt  argued,  was  an  ex- 
cellent poet ;  he  belonged  to  a  late  age :  '  Eu- 
phuism ' — a  delightfully  vague  term,  is  likely 
to  characterise  a  late  age ;  a  poet  who  com- 
pares his  verses  to  white  violets  had  evidently 
a  taste  for  simplicity,  and  presumably,  there- 
fore, was  no  Euphuist ;  a  gaudy  garland  is  an 
excellent  set  off  for  pure  white  violets.  And 
so,  to  the  great  perplexity  of  scholars,  but  to 
the  great  satisfaction  of  those  who  enjoy  a 
pretty  sentence,  Meleager  will  continue  "to 
wind  his  pure  white  violets  into  the  gaudy 
garland  of  late  Greek  Euphuism." 

We  have  a  similar  illustration  of  the  same 
thing  in  Mr.  Gosse's  account  of  Shaftesbury. 
We  are  told  that  he  "  was  perhaps  the  great- 
est literary  force  between  Dry  den  and  Swift "  ; 
that  "  he  deserves  remembrance  as  the  first 
who  really  broke  down  the  barrier  which  ex- 
cluded England  from  taking  her  proper  place 
in  the  civilization  of  literary  Europe  "  ;  that  "  he 
set  an  example  for  the  kind  of  prose  which  was 

117 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

to  mark  the  central  years  of  the  century"  ; 
that  "his  style  glitters  and  rings,  and  .  .  . 
yet  so  curious  that  one  marvels  that  it  should 
have  fallen  completely  into  neglect "  ;  that 
"he  was  the  first  Englishman  who  developed 
theories  of  formal  virtue,  who  attempted  to 
harmonize  the  beautiful  with  the  true  and 
the  good "  ;  that  the  modern  attitude  of  mind 
seems  to  meet  us  first  in  the  graceful  cosmo- 
politan writings  of  Shaftesbury  ;  that  "  without 
a  Shaftesbury  there  would  hardly  have  been  a 
Ruskin  or  a  Pater."  Such  amazing  nonsense 
almost  confounds  refutation  by  its  sheer  ab- 
surdity. 

With  regard  to  the  first  statement,  it  may 
be  sufficient  to  say  that  between  the  period 
of  Dryden's  literary  activity  and  the  publi- 
cation of  Swift's  Battle  of  the  Books  and  Tale 
of  a  Tub  were  flourishing  Hobbes,  Izaak  Wal- 
ton, Bunyan,  Temple,  and  Locke ;  that  between 
the  publication  of  the  Tale  of  a  Tub  and  of 
Shaftesbury's  collected  writings  were  flourishing 
Addison,  Steele,  De  Foe,  Arbuthnot,  Berkeley. 
With  regard  to  the  second  statement,  it  would 
be  interesting  to  know  how  a  writer  who  had 
been  preceded  by  Bacon,  Hobbes  and  Locke, 
could  be  described  as  a  writer  who  had  been  the 
first  "  to  break  down  the  barrier  which  excluded 
England  from  taking  her  proper  place  in  the 
civilization  of  literary  Europe."  The  truth  is, 
that   Shaftesbury  exercised  no  influence  at  all 

118 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

on  Continental  Literature  until  long  after  our 
Literature  had  generally  become  influential  in 
France.  Equally  absurd  and  baseless  is  the 
remark  that  he  "set  an  example  of  the  kind 
of  prose  that  was  to  mark  the  central  years 
of  the  century."  Whose  prose  was  affected  by 
him?  Bolingbroke's?  or  Fielding's?  or  Richard- 
son's ?  or  Middleton's  ?  or  Johnson's  ?  or  Gold- 
smith's ?  or  Hume's  ?  or  Hawkesworth's  ?  or 
Sterne's  ?  or  Smollett's  ?  or  Chesterfield's  ?  that  of 
the  writers  in  the  Monthly  Review?  or  in  the 
Adventurer?  or  in  the  World?  or  in  the  Connois- 
seur? To  say  of  Shaftesbury's  style  that  "it  glit- 
ters and  rings,"  is  to  say  what  betrays  utter 
ignorance  of  its  characteristics.  As  a  rule,  it  is 
diffuse,  involved,  and  cumbrous,  affected,  but  with 
an  affectation  which  sedulously  aims  at  the  very 
opposite  effects  of  "  glittering  and  ringing." 
When  he  is  eloquent,  as  in  the  Moralists,  he  imi- 
tates the  style  of  Plato ;  his  vice  is  florid  verbos- 
ity ;  it  may  be  doubted  whether  a  single  sentence 
could  be  found  to  which  Mr.  Gosse's  description 
would  be  applicable.  If,  it  may  be  added,  his  style 
had  "  fallen  completely  into  neglect,"  it  is  some- 
what surprising  that  "he  should  set  an  example 
for  the  kind  of  prose  which  was  to  mark  the  cen- 
tral years  of  the  century."  When  we  are  told 
that  he  was  "  the  first  Englishman  who  attempted 
to  harmonize  the  beautiful  with  the  true  and  the 
good,"  we  ask  in  amazement  whether  Mr.  Gosse 
has  ever  inspected  the  Hymns  of  Spenser  and 

119 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

the  writings  of  the  Cambridge  Platonists ;  and 
when  he  tells  us  that  without  a  Shaftesbury 
there  would  hardly  have  been  a  Ruskin  or  a 
Pater,  we  would  suggest  to  him  that  both 
Ruskin  and  Pater  were  perhaps  not  ignorant  of 
the  Platonic  Dialogues.  In  the  account  given 
of  Spenser,  a  poem  is  attributed  to  him  which 
he  never  wrote.  "  In  one  of  his  early  pieces. 
The  Oak  and  The  Briar,  went  far,"  etc.,  the  oak 
and  the  briar  is  simply  an  episode  in  the  second 
eclogue  of  the  Shepherd's  Calendar.  Mr.  Gosse, 
probably  finding  it  quoted  in  some  book  of  selec- 
tions, has  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  a 
separate  poem.  Of  Mr.  Gosse's  qualifications  for 
dealing  with  Spenser,  we  have,  by  the  way,  an 
excellent  example  in  the  following  remark : 
"Spenser,  although  he  boasted  of  his  classical 
acquirements,  was  singularly  little  affected  by 
Greek  or  even  Latin  ideas."  Spenser's  Hymns  in 
honour  of  Love  and  in  Honour  of  Beauty  are 
simply  saturated  with  Platonism,  being  indeed 
directly  derived  from  the  Phcedrus  and  the 
Symposium,  numberless  passages  from  which 
are  interwoven  with  the  poems.  The  whole 
scheme  of  the  Faerie  Queene  was  suggested  by, 
and  based  on,  Aristotle's  Ethics  with  elaborate 
particularity,  Arthur,  in  his  relation  to  the 
several  knights,  corresponding  to  the  virtue 
fieyaXoylruj^^ia  in  its  relation  to  the  other  virtues. 
The  conclusion  of  the  tenth  canto  of  the  first 
book  is  simply  an  allegorical  presentation  of  the 

120 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

relation  of  the  /Sio?  0ea>pr}TiK6<i  to  practical  life. 
The  "  Castle  of  Medina  "  in  the  second  book  is  a 
minutely  technical  exposition  of  the  Aristotelian 
doctrine  of  the  mean,  modified  by  the  Platonic 
theory  of  morals :  the  three  mothers  being  the 
XoyiariK^,  the  eTridufiiiTiKij,  and  dvfMrjTiKijy  the  three 
daughters,  Elissa,  Perissa,  and  Medina,  being 
respectively  the  Aristotelian  eWeti/rt?,  the 
xnrepfiokrj,  and  the  fieaorrjii.  In  fact,  the  whole 
passage  is  simply  an  allegory  of  the  Aristotelian 
doctrine  of  the  mean.  The  whole  of  the  ninth 
canto  of  the  second  book  is  founded  on  the  famous 
passage  in  the  Timceus  describing  the  anatomy  of 
man.  In  truth  the  poem  teems  with  references 
to  Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  with  passages  imitated 
from  the  Greek  poets,  as  every  scholar  knows. 
And  this  is  a  poet  "  singularly  little  affected  by 
Greek  ideas ! " 

The  same  astonishing  ignorance  is  displayed 
in  a  remark  about  Milton.  We  are  told  that 
in  his  youth  he  was  "slightly  subjected  to  in- 
fluence from  Spenser."  If  Mr.  Gosse  had  any 
adequate  acquaintance  with  Milton  and  Spenser, 
he  would  have  known  that  Spenser  was  to 
Milton  almost  what  Homer  was  to  Virgil,  that 
Spenser's  influence  simply  pervades  his  poems, 
not  his  youthful  poems  only,  but  Paradise 
Lost  and  even  Paradise  Regained.  On  page  194 
we  find  this  sentence :  "  From  1660  onwards 
.  .  .  what  France  originally,  and  then  England, 
chose  was  the  imitatio  veterum,  the  Literature 

121 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

in  prose  and  verse  which  seemed  most  closely 
to  copy  the  models  of  Latin  style.  Aristotle 
and  Horace  were  taken,  not  merely  as  patterns, 
but  as  arbiters."  It  would  be  very  interesting  to 
know  what  English  author  took  Aristotle  as  a 
pattern  for  style.  Is  Mr.  Gosse  acquainted  with 
the  characteristics  of  Aristotle's  style?  Should 
he  ever  become  so,  he  will  probably  have  some 
sense  of  the  immeasurable  absurdity  of  asserting 
that  our  prose  writers  from  1660  onwards  took 
that  style  for  their  model.  On  a  par  with  this  is 
the  assertion  that  up  to  1605  Bacon  had  mainly 
issued  his  works  in  "  Ciceronian  Latin."  Is 
Mr.  Gosse  aware  of  the  meaning  of  "  Ciceronian 
Latin  "  ?  Very  "  Ciceronian  "  indeed  is  Bacon's 
Latinity,  and  particularly  that  of  the  Medita- 
tiones  Sacrce,  the  only  work  published  in  Latin 
by  Bacon  up  to  1605  !  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  say,  in  passing,  that  such  works  as  Bacon 
had  published  up  to  1605  were,  with  the  one 
exception  referred  to,  all  in  English.  No- 
thing, it  may  be  added,  is  so  annoying  in  this 
book  as  its  slushy  dilettantism.  Mr.  Gosse 
appears  to  be  incapable  of  accuracy  and  pre- 
cision. Thus  he  tells  us  that  Chaucer's  expe- 
dition to  Italy  in  1372  was  "  the  first  of  several 
Italian  expeditions."  Chaucer,  so  far  as  is 
known,  visited  Italy,  after  this,  exactly  once. 
Again,  he  tells  us  that  the  Complaint  of  Mars 
and  the  Parliament  of  Fowls  are  interesting  as 
showing  that  Chaucer  had  completely  abandoned 

122 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

his  imitation  of  French  models.  Chaucer  wrote 
several  poems  in  the  pure  French  style,  and 
based  on  French  models,  after  the  date  of  these 
poems.  Such  would  be  the  Rondel  Merciless 
Beauty  suggested  by  Williamme  d'Am.iens,  the 
Coinpleynt  of  Venus,  partly  adapted  and  partly 
translated  from  three  Ballades  by  Sir  Otes  de 
Graunson,  and  the  Compleynt  to  his  Empty 
Purse,  modelled  on  a  Ballade  by  Eustache  Des- 
champs,  while  French  influence  continued  to 
modify  his  work  throughout.  On  page  238  we 
are  told  that  Thomson  revived  the  Spenserian 
stanza ;  it  had  been  revived  by  Pope,  Prior, 
Shenstone,  and  Akenside.  On  page  151  we 
are  informed  that  the  first  instalment  of  Clar- 
endon's History  remained  unprinted  till  1752, 
and  the  rest  of  it  till  1759.  If  Mr.  Gosse  knew 
anything  about  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
controversies  of  the  eighteenth  century,  he 
would  have  known  that  the  greater  part  of 
it  was  printed  and  published  between  1702  and 
1704,  and  frequently  reprinted  between  1704 
and  1731. 

There  is  not  a  chapter  in  the  book  which 
does  not  teem  with  errors.  Trissino's  Sofoyiisha 
was  not  the  only  work  in  which  blank  verse 
had  attained  any  prominence  in  Italy  about 
1515 ;  it  had  been  employed  in  works  equally 
prominent,  by  Rucellai  in  his  Rosmunda,  and 
in  his  Oreste,  as  well  as  in  his  didactic  poem 
L'Api,   and  by   Alamanni  in   his   Antigone,   all 

123 


OUR   LITERARY   GUIDES 

of  which  were  composed  within  a  few  years 
of  that  date.  On  page  120  we  are  told  that 
Davies  was  the  first  to  employ,  on  a  long  flight, 
the  heroic  quatrain ;  it  had  been  employed  by 
Spenser  in  a  poem  extending  to  nearly  a 
thousand  lines.  Nor  was  Surrey's  essay  in 
terza  rima  "  the  earliest  in  the  language." 
Chaucer  made  the  same  experiment,  though  a 
little  irregularly,  in  the  Compleynt  to  his  Lady. 
We  are  told  on  page  79  that  Gascoigne  was 
"the  first  translator  of  Greek  tragedy."  Gas- 
coigne never  translated  a  line  from  the  Greek. 
His  Jocasta,  to  which  presumably  the  reference 
is  made,  is  simply  an  adaptation  of  Ludovico 
Dolce's  Giocasta.  On  page  25  we  are  informed 
that  "  Gower's  French  verse  has  mainly  dis- 
appeared." Gower  is  not  known  to  have  writ- 
ten anything  in  French  except  the  Ballades 
and  the  Speculum  Meditantis,  both  of  which 
are  extant,  as  it  is  inexcusable  in  any  his- 
torian of  English  Literature  not  to  know. 
The  account  given  on  page  25  of  the  Confessio 
Amantis  shows  that  Mr.  Gosse  is  very  im- 
perfectly acquainted  with  what  he  so  fluently 
criticises,  or  he  would  have  been  aware  that 
the  seventh  book  is  purely  episodical  and  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  '*  The  lover's 
symptoms  and  experience."  In  the  account 
of  Pope  we  are  informed  that  "Boileau  dis- 
couraged love  poetry  and  Pope  did  not  seriously 

124 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

attempt  it."  Pope  is  the  author  of  the  most 
famous  love  poem  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
Eloisa  to  Ahelard,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Elegy 
to  an  Unfortunate  Lady,  of  the  beautiful 
hymn  to  Love  in  the  second  chorus  in  the 
tragedy  of  Brutus^  and  the  exquisite  fragment 
supposed  to  have  been  addressed  to  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu.  "  The  satires  of  Pope,"  he 
continues,  "  would  not  have  been  written  but  for 
those  of  his  French  predecessor."  Can  Mr.  Gosse 
possibly  be  ignorant  that  the  satires  of  Pope 
are  modelled  on  the  Satires  and  Epistles  of 
Horace,  that  they  owe  absolutely  nothing  to 
Boileau,  not  even  the  hint  for  applying  Roman 
satire  to  modern  times,  as  he  had  precedents 
in  his  own  countrymen  Dryden  and  Rochester  ? 
Mr.  Gosse's  criticism  is  often  very  amus- 
ing, as  here,  speaking  of  Gibbon  :  "  Perhaps  he 
leaned  on  the  strength  of  his  style  too  much, 
and  saanficed  the  abstract  to  the  concrete."  Of  all 
historians  who  have  ever  lived.  Gibbon  is  the 
most  "  abstract "  and  has  most  sacrificed  the 
"  concrete "  to  the  "  abstract,"  as  every  student 
of  history  knows.  On  a  par  with  this  is  the 
prodigious  statement  (p.  291)  that  there  is  "an 
absence  of  emotional  imagination "  in  Burke  ! 
That  excellent  man,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  was,  we  are 
told,  in  the  habit  of  using  any  word  that 
occurred  to  him  as  having  a  fine  sound  and 
rounding  a  sentence  well,  without  much  care 
for  its  meaning  ;  "  and  this,"  says  his  biographer 

125 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

"he  did  so  boldly  and  in  such  an  imposing 
manner  that  he  would  sometimes  stagger  the 
wisest  people  and  make  them  gasp  again." 
This  is  precisely  Mr.  Gosse's  method.  About 
the  propriety  of  his  epithets  and  statements,  so 
long  as  they  sound  well,  he  never  troubles  him- 
self ;  sometimes  they  are  so  vague  as  to  mean 
anything,  as  often  they  have  no  meaning  at  all, 
as  here  :  "  His  [that  is  Shelley's]  style,  carefully 
considered,  is  seen  to  rest  on  a  basis  built  about 
1760,  from  which  it  is  every  moment  springing 
and  sparkling,  like  a  fountain,  in  columns  of 
ebullient  lyricism."  Could  pure  nonsense  go 
further?  We  have  another  illustration  of  the 
same  audacity  of  absurd  assertion  on  page  260. 
We  are  there  informed — Mr.  Gosse  is  speaking 
of  our  prose  literature  about  the  centre  of  the 
eighteenth  century — that  "  Philosophy  by  this 
time  had  become  detached  from  belles  lettres  ; 
it  was  now  quite  indifferent  to  those  who  prac- 
tised it,  whether  their  sentences  were  harmonious 
or  no.  .  .  .  Philosophy  in  fact  quitted  litera- 
ture." If  there  was  any  period  in  our  prose 
literature  when  philosophy  was  in  the  closest 
alliance  with  belles  lettres,  and  was  most 
studious  of  the  graces  of  style,  it  was  between 
about  1750  and  1771.  In  those  years  appeared 
Hutcheson's  System  of  Moral  Philosophy,  Adam 
Smith's  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  one  of 
the  most  eloquent  philosophical  treatises  ever 
written,    Burke's    Treatise   on   the   Sublime  and 

126 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

Beautiful,  Reid's  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind, 
Tucker's  Light  of  Nature  Pursued,  Beattie's 
Essay  on  Truth,  to  say  nothing  of  Hume's 
Inquiry  concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals, 
his  Political  Discourses,  and  his  Natural  History 
of  Religion,  all  of  them  works  pre-eminently 
distinguished  by  the  graces  of  style,  while  so 
far  from  philosophy  quitting  belles  lettres,  it 
was  during  these  years  that  the  foundations  of 
philosophical  criticism  were  laid  by  Burke, 
Harris,  Hurd,  Kames,  and  others.  Mr.  Gosse 
appears  to  have  forgotten  that  he  had  himself 
told  us  (p.  205)  that  Shaftesbury's  style  set  the 
example  of  the  prose  which  was  to  mark  the 
central  years  of  the  century !  Thus  again  Burton's 
Anatomy  of  Melancholy  is  "an  entertaining 
neurotic  compendium " ;  Bacon's  Essays  are 
"often  mere  notations  .  .  .  enlarged  in 
many  cases  merely  to  receive  the  impressions 
of  a  Machiavellian  ingenuity."  Shelley's  Triumph 
of  Life  is  "  a  noble  but  vague  gnomic  poem,  in 
which  Petrarch's  Trionfi  are  summed  up  and 
sometimes  excelled."  Keats'  "  great  odes  are 
Titanic  and  Titianic."  On  page  284  we  are  in- 
formed that  for  fifteen  years  after  the  close  of 
1800  "poetry  may  be  said  to  have  been  stationary 
in  England."  When  we  remember  that  within 
these  years  appeared  the  best  of  Wordsworth's 
poems,  the  best  of  Coleridge's,  the  best  of  Scott's, 
the  best  of  Crabbe's,  the  first  two  cantos  of 
Childe  Harold,  the  best  of  Campbell's,  the  best 

127 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

of  Moore's,  and  of  Southey's — we  wonder  what 
can  be  meant,  till  we  read  on  to  find  that  it  was 
"on  the  contrary  extremely  active."  But  "its 
activity  took  the  form  of  the  gradual  acceptance 
of  the  new  romantic  ideas,  the  slow  expulsion 
of  the  old  classic  taste,  and  the  multiplication 
of  examples  of  what  had  once  for  all  been 
supremely  accomplished  in  the  hollows  of  the 
Quantocks."  In  other  words,  its  activity  took  the 
form  of  its  activity,  and  its  activity  led  to  its 
becoming  stationary.  Mr.  Gosse  is  sometimes 
solemnly  oracular,  as  here  :  "  It  is  a  sentimental 
error  to  suppose  that  the  winds  of  God  blow 
only  through  the  green  tree ;  it  is  sometimes 
the  dry  tree  which  is  peculiarly  favourable  to 
their  passage."  It  is  not  sometimes,  we  submit, 
but  always  that  the  dry  tree  will  be  most  pro- 
pitious to  their  passage.  But  we  like  Mr.  Gosse 
best  when  he  is  eloquent,  as  here :  "In  the 
chapel  of  Milton's  brain,  entirely  devoted  though 
it  was  to  a  Biblical  form  of  worship,  there  were 
flutes  and  trumpets  to  accompany  one  vast 
commanding  organ."  No  wonder  poor  Milton 
suffered,  as  we  know  he  did  suffer,  from 
insomnia  ! 

The  statement  that  "  so  miserable  is  the 
poverty  of  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  when  we  have  mentioned  Pecock  and 
Capgrave,  there  is  no  other  prose  writer  to  be 
named,"  is  bad  enough.  But  to  sum  up  Pecock's 
work  with  the  remark,  "  the  matter  is  paradoxi- 

128 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

cal  and  casuistical  reasoning  on  controversial 
points,  in  which  he  secures  the  sympathy  neither 
of  the  new  thought  nor  the  old,"  is  to  demon- 
strate that  Mr.  Gosse  knows  nothing  whatever 
ahout  it.  The  Repressor  is  in  many  important 
respects  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works  in  our 
early  prose  Literature.  It  would  be  interesting 
to  know  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  following  : 
"The  masterpiece  of  Chilling  worth  stands  almost 
alone  in  a  sort  of  underwood  of  Theophrastian 
character  sketches."  Does  Mr.  Gosse  suppose 
that  English  prose  Literature  in  and  about  1637 
is  represented  by  Hall's  Characters  of  Vices  and 
Virtues,  by  Sir  Thomas  Overbury's  Characters, 
and  by  Earle's  Microcosmographie,  which  ap- 
peared respectively,  not  in  and  about  1637,  but 
in  1608,  in  1614,  and  in  1628  ?  If  this  was  the 
underwood  in  which  Chillingworth's  work  stood, 
it  stood  also  in  a  dense  forest  represented  by 
some  of  the  most  celebrated  prose  writings  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  such  as  the  greater 
part  of  the  writings  of  Bacon  and  of  Raleigh, 
the  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Selden's  Titles  of 
Honour  and  Mare  ClatLsum,  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury's  De  Veritate,  Feltham's  Resolves,  the 
best  of  Hall's  writings,  Purchas'  PilgHins,  Bar- 
clay's Argents,  the  Histories  of  Speed,  Stowe, 
Hayward,  and  Raleigh,  Heylin's  Microcosmus, 
Prynne's  Histrio-Mastix,  and  the  famous  sermons 
of  Lancelot  Andrewes,  all  of  which  apppared 
between  1608  and  1637.  These  are  the  sort  of 
B.C.  129  I 


OUR   LITERARY   GUIDES 

remarks  in  which  Mr.  Gosse  habitually  indulges. 
We  have  another  example  in  the  following : 
"  Shelley's  attitude  to  style  is  in  the  main  re- 
trograde," a  generalization  based  on  the  fact 
that  he  was  no  admirer  of  "  the  arabesque  of 
the  cockney  school."  But  were  Shelley's  chief 
contemporaries  admirers  of  the  arabesque  of 
the  cockney  school,  or  were  they  affected  by  it  ? 
Was  Wordsworth,  was  Coleridge,  or  Southey, 
or  Byron,  or  Crabbe,  or  Campbell,  or  Landor  ? 
— a  question  which  Mr.  Gosse  probably  never 
stopped  to  ask  himself.  On  a  par  with  this  is 
the  absurd  assertion  that  "  English  poetry  was 
born  again  during  the  autumn  months  of  1797." 
The  appearance  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads  did  not 
make,  but  mark,  an  era  in  our  poetry.  The 
revolution  of  which  they  were  the  expression 
had  been  maturing,  as  surely  but  distinctly  as 
the  social  and  political  revolution  marked  by 
the  assembly  of  the  States-General  ten  years 
before.  There  was  hardly  a  note  struck  in  the 
Lyrical  Ballads  which  had  not  been  struck  in 
our  poetry  between  1740  and  the  date  of  their 
appearance. 

To  call  this  compilation  a  History  of  Modern 
English  Literature  is  ludicrous.  Mr.  Gosse  has 
no  conception  even  of  the  eras  into  which  our 
Literature  naturally  falls,  or  of  the  movements 
which  in  each  of  those  eras  defined  themselves. 
Nothing  could  be  more  misleading  and  inadequate 
than  the  accounts  given  of  the  historians,  theo- 

130 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

logians,  philosophers,  and  critics,  many  of  whom 
— nay,  whole  schools  of  whom — are  not  noticed 
at  all.  Sidney's  epoch-marking  little  treatise  is 
dismissed  in  four  unmeaning  lines  as  "an  urbane 
and  eloquent  essay,  which  labours  under  but  one 
disadvantage,  namely,  that  when  it  was  com- 
posed in  1581  there  was  scarcely  any  poesy  in 
England  to  be  defended.  This  was  posthu- 
mously printed  in  1595."  Ben  Jonson's  not  less 
remarkable  DiscoveHes  are  not  even  mentioned. 
How  writers  like  Bacon,  Hooker,  Hobbes,  Locke, 
and  Berkeley  fare  we  have  not  space  to  illus- 
trate. Mr.  Gosse,  indeed,  judging  by  his  excur- 
sions into  the  realms  of  theology  and  philo- 
sophy, has  certainly  been  wise  to  assign  more 
space  to  The  Flower  and  the  Leaf  than  is  as- 
signed to  Hobbes,  Barrow,  Butler,  and  Paley  put 
together.  We  have  by  no  means  exhausted  the 
list  of  blunders  and  absurdities  to  be  found  in 
this  book ;  but  we  have,  we  fear,  exhausted  the 
patience  of  our  readers,  and  we  must  bring  our 
examination  of  it  to  a  close. 

The  melancholy  thing  about  all  this  is  the 
perfect  impunity  with  which  such  works  as 
these  can  be  given  to  the  public.  We  have 
not  the  smallest  doubt  that  this  book  has  been 
extolled  to  the  skies  in  reviews  which  have  not 
detected  a  single  error  in  it,  and  which  have 
accepted  its  generalizations  and  its  criticisms 
with  unquestioning  credulity  ;  and  we  have  as 
little    doubt  that  those  scholars  who  have  dis- 

131 


OUR  LITERARY   GUIDES 

cerned  its  defects  and  absurdities  have  chosen, 
from  motives  possibly  of  kindness,  possibly  of 
prudence,  and  possibly  in  mere  contempt,  to 
miaintain  silence  about  them.  Had  it  appeared 
twenty  years  ago,  it  would  instantly  have  been 
exposed  and  exploded,  indeed  no  writer  would 
have  dared  to  insult  serious  readers  by  such  a 
publication.  What  every  reader  has  a  right  to 
demand  from  those  who  take  upon  themselves 
to  instruct  him  are  sincerity,  industry,  and  com- 
petence ;  and  what  no  critic  has  a  right  to  con- 
done is  ostentatious  indifference  on  the  part  of 
an  author  to  the  responsibilities  incurred  by  him 
in  undertaking  to  teach  the  public. 

The  sooner  Mr.  Gosse,  and  writers  like  Mr. 
Gosse,  come  to  understand  that,  however  in- 
geniously expressed,  reckless  generalizations, 
random  assertions  and  the  specious  semblance 
of  knowledge,  erudition,  and  authority  may 
pass  current  for  a  time,  but  are  certain  at  last 
to  be  detected  and  exposed,  the  better  for  them- 
selves and  the  better  for  their  readers.  If,  too, 
they  wish  justice  to  bo  done  to  the  accomplish- 
ments which  they  really  possess,  they  will  do 
well  to  remember  what  is  implied  in  the  proverb 
Ne  sutor  ultra  crepidam,  and  what  the  Germans 
mean  by  Vermessenheit. 


132 


LOG-ROLLING  AND  EDUCATION 

WE  see  no  objection  to  Mutual  Admiration 
Societies  ;  they  are  institutions  which 
afford  much  pleasure,  and  can,  as  a  rule,  do 
little  harm.  If  vanity  be  a  foible,  it  is  a  foible 
well  worth  cherishing,  and  will  be  treated 
tenderly  even  by  a  philosopher.  For,  of  all  the 
illusions  which  give  a  zest  to  life,  the  illusions 
created  by  this  flattering  passion  are  the  most 
delightful  and  inspiring.  They  are  so  easily 
evoked  ;  they  respond  with  such  impartial  ob- 
sequiousness to  the  call  of  the  humblest  magi- 
cian. He  has  but  to  speak  the  word — and  they 
are  made  ;  to  command — and  they  are  created. 
A  becomes  what  B  and  C  pronounce  him  to 
be,  and  what  A  and  C  have  done  for  B,  that 
will  B  and  A  do  in  turn  for  C.  It  is  a  deli- 
cious occupation,  no  doubt,  a  feast  for  each,  in 
which  no  crude  surfeit  reigns,  where,  in  Bacon's 
phrase,  satisfaction  and  appetite  are  perpetually 
interchangeable  ;  it  is  like  the  herbage  in  the 
Paradise  of  the  Spanish  poet,  "  quanto  mas  se 

133 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

goza  mas  renace," — the  more  we  enjoy  it  the 
more  it  grows.  It  is  an  old  game — "  Vetus 
fabula  per  novos  histriones  "  : — 

'"Twas,  'Sir,  your  law,'  and  'Sir,  your  eloquence,' 
'  Yours  CJowper's  manner  and  yours  Talbot's  sense ' ; 
Thus  we  dispose  of  all  poetic  merit : 
Yours  Milton's  genius  and  mine  Homer's  spirit. 
Walk  with  respect  behind,  while  we  at  ease 
Weave  laurel  crowns  and  take  what  name  we  please. 
•  My  dear  Tibullus  ! '  if  that  will  not  do, 
Let  me  be  Horace,  and  be  Ovid  you." 

And  there  is  this  advantage.  If  a  sufficient 
number  of  magicians  can,  or  will,  combine,  these 
illusions  may  not  only  serve  each  magician  for 
life,  but  become,  for  a  time,  simply  indistinguish- 
able from  realities.  Now,  as  we  said  before,  we 
see  no  great  harm  in  this.  It  is,  to  say  the  least, 
a  very  amiable  and  brotherly  employment ;  and 
were  it  quite  disinterested  and  honest,  it  would 
be  closely  allied  with  that  virtue  which  St.  Paul 
exalts  above  all  virtues.  But  everything  has  or 
ought  to  have  its  limits.  When  Boswell  at- 
tempted to  defend  certain  Methodists  who  had 
been  expelled  from  the  University  of  Oxford, 
Johnson  retorted  that  the  University  was  per- 
fectly right — "  They  were  examined,  and  found 
to  be  mighty  ignorant  fellows."  "  But,"  said 
Boswell,  "  was  it  not  hard  to  expel  them  ?  for  I 
am  told  they  were  good  beings."  "  I  believe," 
replied    the   sage,    "  that   they   might    be   good 

134 


LOG-ROLLING  AND  EDUCATION 

beings,  but  they  were  not  fit  to  be  in  the 
University  of  Oxford.  A  cow  is  a  very  good 
animal  in  the  field,  but  we  turn  her  out  of  a 
garden." 

To  our  certain  knowledge  many  of  those  who 
owe  their  reputation  to  the  art  to  which  we 
are  referring  are  good  beings,  and  we  have 
little  doubt  that  most  of  those  who  are  least 
scrupulous  in  practising  it  are  good  beings  also. 
Indeed  it  may  be  conceded  at  once  that  there 
is  always  a  strong  presumption  that  members 
of  Mutual  Admiration  Societies  belong  to  this 
class.  On  the  reciprocity  of  essentially  Christian 
virtues  their  very  existence  depends.  Whatever 
may  be  thought  of  their  heads,  their  hearts  are 
pretty  sure  to  be  in  the  right  place.  They  may, 
it  is  true,  act  more  in  the  spirit  of  the  precept 
that  we  should  do  unto  others  as  we  would 
they  should  do  unto  us  than  in  that  of  the  pre- 
cept which  pronounces  that  it  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive.  This,  however,  is  a  trifle 
— one  of  those  distinctions  without  differences 
which  are  so  common  in  Christian  ethics.  But 
for  ourselves  we  must,  as  we  have  said  before, 
discriminate.  To  the  cow  in  the  field  we  have 
no  objection  ;  it  is  of  the  cow  in  the  garden  that 
we  complain. 

To  drop  metaphor :  there  are  certain  spheres 
of  literary  activity  in  which  the  circulation  of 
mutual  puffery  by  this  clique  or  by  that  clique 

135 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

can  do  comparatively  little  harm  to  any  one  or 
to  anything.  There  are  some  subjects  on  which 
every  reader  is  not  only  perfectly  competent  to 
form  his  own  judgment,  but  is  pretty  certain  to 
do  so.  He  may  amuse  himself  by  seeing  what 
the  critics  have  to  say,  and  he  may  be  induced 
by  them  in  the  first  instance  to  turn  to  the  book 
which  is  in  question,  but  he  is  practically  un- 
affected by  any  opinions  unless  they  happen  to 
coincide  with  his  own.  Such  is  the  case  with 
books  of  travel,  with  novels,  and,  as  a  rule,  with 
poetry.  Here  the  arts  of  the  log-roller  are  as 
harmless  as  the  frolics  of  whales  with  tubs.  No 
one  takes  what  he  sees  seriously  except  those 
who  are  engaged  in  the  pastime.  If  Mr.  A  can- 
not give  the  general  public  what  it  appreciates, 
nothing  that  Mr.  B  can  say  will  cajole  that 
public  into  believing  that  it  has  what  it  has  not. 
Mr.  C  and  Mr.  D  may  vociferate,  till  they  are 
hoarse,  that  "  Mr.  E  is  the  subtlest  and  most 
discriminating  critic  that  the  English-speaking 
world  has  ever  known  "  ;  but  if  Mr.  E's  eulogies 
of  Mr.  C's  verses  and  of  Mr.  D's  novels  are  not 
corroborated  by  the  general  reader's  independent 
judgment,  the  fame  of  Messrs.  C  and  D  will 
not  extend  beyond  their  clique.  If  in  poetry  or 
prose  fiction  trash  succeeds,  as  it  undoubtedly 
does,  it  succeeds  not  because  of  the  skill  with 
which  it  has  been  puffed,  though  this  may  be  a 
factor  in  its  success,  but  because  it  hits  the  popu- 

136 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

lar  taste.  The  public  is  seldom  deceived  except 
when  it  wishes  to  be  deceived.  Log-rolling  has 
much  to  answer  for :  it  loads  our  bookstalls 
with  nonsense  and  rubbish,  it  impedes  the  pro- 
duction of  sound  literature,  it  degrades  the 
standard  of  taste,  it  degrades  the  standard  of 
aim  and  attainment,  and  indirectly  it  is  in  every 
way  mischievous  to  literature.  But  we  very 
much  question  whether  in  the  case  of  publica- 
tions which  appeal  directly  to  general  readers, 
and  are  within  the  scope  of  their  judgments, 
the  fortune  of  a  book  is  in  any  way  affected 
by  the  arts  of  the  log-roller.  Amusement 
mingled  with  impatience  is  probably  the  pre- 
vailing sentiment  when  Mr.  C  and  Mr.  D  are 
loud  in  each  other's  praises.  We  remember  the 
amoebsean  strains  of  Hayley  and  Miss  Seward 
in  Porson's  epigram  : — 

Miss  Seward:  Tuneful  poet,  Britain's  glory; 

Mr.  Hayley,  that  is  you. 
Mr.  Hayley :     Ma'am,  you  carry  all  before  you ; 

Trust  me,  Lichfield  Swan,  you  do. 

Miss  Setoard  :  Ode,  didactic,  epic,  sonnet ; 

Mr,  Hayley,  you're  divine. 
Mr.  Hayley :     Ma'am,  I'll  take  my  oath  upon  it, 

You  yourself  are  all  the  nine. 

Or,  in  a  less  good-natured  mood,  we  may  per- 
haps recall  with  a  certain  satisfaction  Pope's 
cruel  but  pathetic  picture  of  the  minor  log- 
rollers  of  his  day  : — 

137 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

Next  plunged  a  feeble  but  a  desperate  pack, 
With  each  a  sickly  brother  at  his  back. 
Sons  of  a  day!  just  buoyant  on  the  flood, 
Then  numbered  with  the  puppies  in  the  mud. 

But  there  are  certain  subjects  and  certain 
spheres  in  which  the  arts  of  the  log-roller,  if 
equally  contemptible,  are  not  quite  so  harm- 
less. 

During  the  last  fifteen  years  the  Press  has 
been  teeming  with  books  designed  to  circulate 
among  readers  who  are  seriously  interested  in 
belles  lettres  and  criticism.  Some  of  them  have 
appeared  as  volumes  in  a  series,  some  as  inde- 
pendent monographs  and  manuals,  and  some  in 
the  humbler  forms  of  editorial  introductions 
and  notes.  Among  them  may  be  found  works 
of  really  distinguished  scholars,  and  works  in 
every  way  worthy  of  such  scholars  ;  and  it  is  no 
doubt  works  like  these  which  have  given  credit 
and  authority  generally  to  publications  of  this 
kind.  The  popularity  of  these  productions  has 
been  extraordinary,  and  their  manufacture  has 
become  one  of  the  most  lucrative  of  hackney 
employments.  Nor  is  this  all.  Their  professed 
purpose  is  the  dissemination  of  serious  instruc- 
tion, is  to  become  text-books  in  literary  history 
and  in  literary  criticism ;  and,  as  text-books  on 
those  subjects,  they  have  made  their  way,  or 
are  making  their  way,  not  merely  into  our  public 
libraries,  but  also  into    the  libraries   of    nearly 

138 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

every  educational  institute  in  England.  Indeed 
it  would  not  be  too  much  to  say  that  if,  among 
general  readers,  about  eighty  in  every  hundred 
derive  almost  all  they  know  about  English 
literature,  both  historically  and  critically,  from 
these  volumes,  in  our  schools  and  colleges, 
the  average  number  of  those  whose  studies 
are  and  ought  to  be  independent  of  them  is 
yearly  diminishing.  It  is  of  these  text-books 
and  of  the  responsibilities  incurred  by  those 
who  produce  and  circulate  them  that  we  wish 
to  speak. 

We  have  already  commented  on  the  distinc- 
tion which  must  be  drawn  between  what  is  best 
and  what  is  inferior  in  the  publications  to  which 
we  have  been  referring  ;  and,  in  truth,  the  differ- 
ence is  one  not  of  degree  but  in  kind.  As  our 
desire  is,  in  Swift's  phrase,  to  lash  the  vice  but 
spare  the  name,  we  shall  not  specify  the  works 
which  we  have  selected  as  typical  of  log-rolling 
in  relation  to  education.  Till  we  saw  them  we 
had  no  conception  of  the  lengths  to  which  this 
sort  of  thing  has  run.  Ostensibly  the  works 
before  us  are  critical  and  biographical  mono- 
graphs designed  to  become  text-books  for 
students  of  English  literature ;  they  may  be 
more  correctly  described  as  complete  epitomes 
of  the  art  of  puffery.  The  writers  begin  by 
assuming  that  the  objects  of  their  ludicrous 
adulation — who   are,  like  themselves,  contribu- 

139 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

tors  of  the  average  order  to  current  periodicals, 
and  the  authors  of  monographs  similar  to  their 
own — are  by  general  consent  critics  of  classical 
authority.  The  most  deferential  references  are 
made  to  them  in  almost  every  page.  Now  it  is 
"  Goethe  and  Mr.  So-and-so  have  observed,"  or 
"  Coleridge  has  remarked,  but  Mr.  So-and-so  is 
inclined  to  think,"  etc.  Sometimes  it  assumes 
the  form  of  a  sort  of  awful  reverence,  as  "  Mr. 
So-and-so  is  a  little  uncertain,  but  surely  he 
more  than  hints,"  or  "  Mr.  So-and-so,  as  we  all 
know,  was  once  of  opinion,  though  he  has  re- 
cently found  reason  to  alter,"  etc.  We  saw  not 
long  ago  in  the  notes  to  a  certain   edition  of  a 

classical  author  :    "  Socrates  and  Mr.  X of 

Trinity  have  observed,"  etc.  Occasionally  this 
homage  expresses  itself — and  this  is  more  seri- 
ous— in  the  form  of  long  extracts  from  Mr.  So- 
and-so's  writings.  Nothing  is  more  common  in 
works  like  these  than  to  find  critics  and  writers 
of  classical  authority  either  completely  ignored, 
or,  if  cited  at  all,  cited  only  in  the  connection 
which  we  have  indicated.  That  the  gentlemen 
who  are  the  subjects  of  this  grotesque  flattery 
either  have  paid  or  will  pay  their  friends  in 
kind  may,  of  course,  be  taken  for  granted. 
Thus  one  factitious  reputation  builds  up  another, 
and  one  bad  book  ushers  in  twenty  which  are 
worse. 

Macaulay  has  an  amusing  passage  in  which  he 
140 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

has  collected  the  names  of  those  who,  according 
to  Horace  Walpole,  were  "  the  first  writers  "  in 
England  in  1753.  It  might  have  been  expected 
that  Hume,  Fielding,  Dr.  Johnson,  Richardson, 
Smollett,  Collins,  and  Gray  would  at  least  have 
had  a  place  among  them.  Not  at  all.  They  were 
Lord  Bath,  Mr.  W.  Whithed,  Sir  Charles  Wil- 
liams, Mr.  Soame  Jenyngs,  Mr.  Cambridge,  and 
Mr.  Coventry  ;  in  other  words,  a  clique  of  politi- 
cians and  men  of  fashion  of  the  very  titles  of 
whose  writings  even  a  reader  tolerably  well 
read  in  the  literature  of  those  times  might  ex- 
cusably be  ignorant.  We  are  not  exaggerating 
when  we  say  that  this  system  of  strenuous  and 
well-directed  mutual  puffery  is,  in  our  own 
time,  leading  to  similarly  perverted  conceptions 
about  the  relative  position  of  those  who  owe 
their  celebrity  to  these  ignoble  arts  and  those 
on  whose  fame  Time's  test  has  set  its  seal,  not 
merely  on  the  part  of  the  general  public,  but  on 
the  part  of  those  who  are  responsible  for  the 
books  introduced  into  schools  and  educational 
institutes.     We  will  give  an  illustration. 

At  a  meeting  held  not  long  ago,  for  the  purpose 
of  prescribing  books  for  a  Reading  Society, 
the  choice  lay  between  some  of  Johnson's 
Lives,  Select  Essays  by  Sainte  Beuve,  and  Select 
Essays  by  Matthew  Arnold  on  the  one  hand, 
and  on  the  other  certain  books  typical  of  the 
literature   of   which   we   have    been    speaking. 

141 


LOG-ROLLING   AND   EDUCATION 

The  debate  which  ensued  was  very  amusing. 
A  member  of  the  committee,  a  gentleman  of 
conservative  temper,  strongly  urged  the  claims 
of  Johnson,  Sainte  Beuve,  and  Arnold,  on  the 
ground  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  Society  to 
encourage  the  study  of  what  was  excellent  and 
of  classical  quality,  especially  in  criticism ;  that 
it  was  not  merely  the  information  contained  in 
a  book  which  had  to  be  considered,  but  the 
style,  the  tone,  the  touch ;  that  the  mono- 
graphs proposed  as  an  alternative  could  scarcely 
be  regarded  as  of  the  first  order,  either  in  ex- 
pression or  in  matter,  for  he  had  observed, 
though  he  had  only  glanced  at  them,  several 
solecisms  in  grammar  and  several  inaccuracies 
of  statement ;  and  he  concluded  by  adding  that 
other  writings  of  these  particular  authors  with 
which  he  happened  to  be  more  familiar  had  not 
prejudiced  him  in  their  favour.  Upon  that, 
another  member  of  the  council,  who  had  been 
busily  conning  the  Press  notices  inserted  in  the 
monographs  in  question,  pleaded  their  claim 
to  preference.  "  Dr.  Johnson,"  he  remarked, 
"  was  no  doubt  a  great  man  in  his  day,  but  his 
day  had  long  been  over ;  no  one  read  him  now. 
Sainte  Beuve  and  Matthew  Arnold  might  be 
classical  and  all  that,  but  they  were  not  up  to 
date."  He  could  not  talk  as  an  expert  on 
literary  matters,  and  therefore  he  would  not 
contradict  what  the  former  speaker  had  said, 

142 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

"but  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Messrs.  So- 
and-so,"  the  authors  of  the  monographs  in  ques- 
tion, "were  very  big  men — bigger  men,  I  should 
think  (glancing  at  the  Press  notices  in  his  hand), 
than  Sainte  Beuve  and  Matthew  Arnold.  At 
any  rate,  everybody  has  heard  of  them ;  and," 
he  continued,  "  listen  to  this."  He  then  pro- 
ceeded to  read  out  some  of  the  notices,  adding 
that  it  was  difficult,  if  he  might  say  so  without 
offence,  to  reconcile  what  his  friend,  the  pre- 
ceding speaker,  had  said  with  what  was  said  in 
these  notices.  He  was  a  little  staggered — for, 
though  a  simple,  he  was  a  shrewd  man — when 
the  very  remarkable  similarity  between  Mr.  A's 
eulogies  of  Mr.  B  and  Mr.  B's  eulogies  of  Mr.  A 
was  pointed  out  to  him,  and  when,  in  reference 
to  anonymous  testimony,  he  was  reminded  that 
one  voice  may  have  many  echoes.  It  was 
generally  felt,  more  especially  as  Mr.  A  or 
Mr.  B  had,  we  believe,  more  than  one  acquaint- 
ance among  the  committee,  that  the  debate 
was  taking  rather  an  embarrassing  turn.  The 
question  was  then  put  to  the  vote,  and  the 
monographs  were  carried  by  a  majority  of 
three  to  one. 

What  occurred  at  this  meeting  is  occurring 
every  day,  variously  modified,  wherever  the 
choice  of  books  is  in  question,  whether  in  public 
libraries  or  in  educational  institutions.  A  litera- 
ture, the  sole  credentials  of  which  are  derived 

US 


LOG-ROLLING  AND   EDUCATION 

from  those  who  produce  and  circulate  it,  is 
gradually  superseding  that  of  our  classics.  We 
seem  in  truth  to  be  losing  all  sense  of  the 
essential  distinction  between  the  writings  of 
the  average  man  of  letters  and  those  of  the 
masters. 


144 


OUR  LITERARY  GUIDES 

III.      BOOKS  WORTH  READING* 

WERE  it  not  for  its  melancholy  significance, 
this  would  be  one  of  the  most  amusing 
books  which  it  has  ever  been  our  fortune  to 
meet  with.  Of  Mr.  Frank  W.  Raffety  we  have 
not  the  honour  to  know  anything,  except  what 
we  have  gathered  from  this  little  volume  and 
from  its  title-page.  But  he  must  be  a  singularly 
interesting  gentleman.  His  enthusiasm  for 
books,  his  portentous  ignorance  of  them ;  his 
strenuous  desire  to  improve  the  popular  taste 
by  pleading  for  the  best,  his  instinctive  tendency 
to  make  in  all  cases  for  the  worst ;  his  sublime 
intolerance  of  everything  in  literature  which 
falls  short  of  excellence,  his  more  than  sublime 
indifference  to  the  commonest  rules  of  grammar 
and  syntax  in  expressing  that  intolerance ;  the 
naivete,  the  frankness,  the  recklessness  with 
which  he  displays  his  incompetence  for  the  task 
which  he  has  undertaken — in  these  qualifications 

*  Books  Worth  Reading.  A  Plea  for  the  Best  and  an 
Essay  towards  Selection,  with  Short  Introductions.  By 
Frank  W.  Raflfety,  London. 

B.O.  145  K 


OUR   LITERARY   GUIDES 

and  accomplishments  Mr.  Raffety  is  not  perhaps 
alone,  but  he  has  certainly  no  superior. 

Mr.  Raffety  aspires  to  guide  his  readers 
through  the  chief  literatures  of  the  world. 
Now  the  task  of  a  reviewer,  who  has  a  con- 
science, is  not  always  a  cheerful  one,  and  we 
confess  that,  when  we  had  generally  surveyed 
Mr.  Raffety's  work,  we  resolved  to  amuse  our- 
selves by  trying  to  discover  of  which  of  the 
literatures,  to  which  Mr.  Raffety  constitutes 
himself  a  guide,  Mr.  Raffety  is  probably  most 
ignorant.  It  is  a  nice  point.  Let  our  readers 
judge.  We  will  begin  with  Mr.  Raffety  and  the 
Classics.  Of  Theognis,  the  most  voluminous  of 
the  Greek  Gnomic  poets,  it  is  said  that  "  only 
a  few  sentences" — Mr.  Raffety  is  presumably 
under  the  impression  that  Theognis  wrote  in 
prose — "quoted  in  the  works  of  Plato  and  others 
survive."  "  The  Greek  Anthology,"  we  are 
astounded  to  learn,  "  is  by  Lord  Neaves "  and 
"  is  one  of  the  best  volumes  in  the  A.C.E.R. 
series."  What  Mr.  Raffety  no  doubt  means  is, 
that  Lord  Neaves  is  the  author  of  a  monograph 
on  the  Greek  anthology,  as  he  certainly  was. 
With  regard  to  Herodotus,  Mr.  Raffety  has 
evidently  got  some  information  not  generally 
accessible.  His  History,  we  are  told,  "  is  a  great 
prose  epic.  .  .  .  The  second  book  is  of  the 
most  interest.  In  other  works  are  the  histories 
of  Croesus,  Cyrus,"  etc.  It  would  be  interesting 
to  know  what  other  works  besides  his  History 

146 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

Herodotus  has  left.  Of  the  Prometheus  Bound 
of  ^schylus  Mr.  Raffety  gives  the  following 
interesting  account.  It  contains,  he  says,  "  the 
story  of  Prometheus  and  his  defiance  of  Jupiter, 
who  condemned  him  to  be  bound  to  a  rock, 
where  he  died  rather  than  yield."  We  exhort 
Mr.  Raffety,  before  his  work  passes  into  a  second 
edition,  to  consult  his  Classical  Dictionary. 

Of  the  translations  recommended  by  Mr. 
Raffety  we  should  very  much  like  to  get  a 
sight  of  the  translation  of  Pindar  by  Calverley, 
of  the  joint  translation  of  the  same  classic  by 
Messrs.  E.  Myers  and  A.  Lang,  and  of  the  joint 
translation  of  Thucydides  "  by  Jowett  and  Rev. 
H.  Dale,  2  vols."  Of  Herodotus,  of  ^schylus, 
of  Sophocles,  of  Pindar,  of  Polybius,  of  Demos- 
thenes, what  are,  by  general  consent,  esteemed 
the  best  translations  are  not  so  much  as  men- 
tioned. Latin  literature  fares  even  worse  in 
the  hands  of  our  guide.  Mr.  Raffety  appears 
to  know  no  more  about  Catullus  than  that  he 
was  a  writer  of  epigrams.  Such  trifles  as  the 
Attis,  the  Peleus  and  Thetis,  the  Julia  and 
Manlius  marriage  song,  the  Coma  Berenices,  the 
love  lyrics  and  threnodies  he  does  not  conde- 
scend to  notice.  In  "  guiding "  his  readers  to 
translations  of  Lucretius  and  Juvenal,  Munro's 
version  of  the  first  in  prose  and  Gifford's  version 
of  the  second  in  verse — which  Conington  pro- 
nounced to  be  the  best  version  of  any  Roman 
classic   in   our   language — are   not   so  much  as 

147 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

referred  to.  Nor,  again,  in  the  case  of  Plautus 
and  Terence,  are  the  excellent  versions  of  Thorn- 
ton and  Coleman  noticed.  Tacitus,  who  is  oddly 
described  as  "  the  foremost  man  of  the  day," 
an  estimate  which  might  have  pleased  but 
which  would  certainly  have  surprised  him, 
chronicled,  we  are  told,  "  the  foundation  of  the 
Christian  religion."  Mr.  Raffety's  assurance  on 
this  point  will  probably  disappoint  inquisitive 
readers.  Equally  surprising  are  the  portions  of 
the  work  dealing  with  the  modern  literatures. 
In  the  course  of  these  we  learn  that  "  the  Nihe- 
lungen  Lied  is  the  oldest  drama  in  Europe " ; 
that  the  Areopagitica  and  the  Defence  of  the 
People  of  England  are  Milton's  best  prose  writ- 
ings— Mr.  Raffety  apparently  not  being  aware 
that  the  second  work  is  in  Latin,  and  that  if 
he  means  the  first  Defence,  it  is  anything  but 
one  of  the  best  of  Milton's  writings.  We  are 
also  informed  that  Dryden  was  most  valuable 
as  a  translator  from  the  Greek  and  Latin ; 
Dryden's  versions  from  the  Greek  begin  and 
end  with  paraphrases  of  four  Idylls  of  Theoc- 
ritus, the  first  book  of  the  Iliad  and  the  parting 
of  Hector  and  Andromache  from  the  sixth,  and 
are  notoriously  the  very  worst  things  he  ever 
did. 

Sometimes  Mr.  Raffety  fairly  takes  our  breath 
away,  as  when  he  informs  us  that  Gray's  tomb 
can  be  seen  in  the  little  churchyard  of  Stoke  Pogis 
"with   the   Elegy    written   upon   it."     Can   Mr. 

148 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

Raffety  be  acquainted  with  the  length  of  the 
Elegy  and  with  the  proportions  of  a  tomb- 
stone? Chaucer,  we  are  informed,  wrote  some 
poems  in  Italian.  We  should  very  much  like  to 
see  them,  and  so  probably  would  Professor  Skeat, 
for  they  appear  to  have  escaped  the  notice  of 
all  Chaucer's  editors.  Swift's  Tale  of  a  Tub 
was  written,  we  are  told,  "  against  the  teaching 
of  Hobbes ! " 

It  is  indeed  impossible  to  open  this  book  any- 
where without  alighting  on  some  most  discredit- 
able blunder  or  absurdity.  Thus  we  are  informed 
that  Macaulay's  essay  on  Burleigh  treats  of  the 
time  of  James  I. — Burleigh,  as  we  need  hardly 
say,  dying  nearly  five  years  before  James  came 
to  the  throne,  and  Macaulay's  essay  having  no 
reference  at  all  to  James  L's  time.  "  There  is," 
says  Mr.  Raffety,  "no  more  stirring  lyric  than 
The  Cotters  Saturday  Night"  a  remark  which 
shows  that  Mr.  Raffety  does  not  know  what  a 
lyric  poem  is.  But  to  look  for  blunders  in  Mr. 
Raffety's  pages  would  be  to  look  for  leaves  in 
a  summer  forest.  His  critical  remarks  and  bio- 
graphical notes  are  truly  delightful.  We  wish 
we  had  space  to  quote  some  of  them.  Of  their 
general  quality  the  following  profound  remark 
is  a  fair  specimen  : — "  Dante  requires  study,  and 
an  endeavour  after  appreciation."  Mr.  Raffety 
is  always  anxious  to  conduct  his  readers  by 
short  cuts  and  to  save  them  trouble.  Macaulay's 
Essays,  for  example,  should  be  read  before  his 

149 


OUR    LITERARY    GUIDES 

History ;  "  they  will  be  more  easily  tackled," 
he  says,  "  than  the  History  in  the  first  in- 
stance." But  on  the  subject  of  Gibbon  Mr. 
Raffety  is  adamant,  being  fully  of  the  late  Pro- 
fessor Freeman's  opinion — "  Whatever  else  is 
read,  Gibbon  must  be  read."  How  Gibbon  is  to 
be  read,  or  why  Gibbon  is  to  be  read,  or  in  what 
edition  he  should  be  read,  Mr.  Raffety  does  not 
explain. 

Now,  what  possible  end  can  be  served  by 
books  like  these,  except  to  misguide  and  mis- 
inform ?  Here  is  a  writer,  who  certainly  leaves 
us  with  the  impression  that  he  cannot  read  the 
Greek  and  Latin  classics  in  the  original,  setting 
up  as  a  director  of  classical  study,  and  pro- 
nouncing ex  cathedrd  on  the  merits  of  transla- 
tions of  these  classics.  His  knowledge  of  the 
modern  literature  is,  as  is  abundantly  manifest, 
though  we  have  neither  space  nor  patience  to 
illustrate,  equally  insufficient  and  unsubstantial, 
and  yet  he  undertakes  to  initiate  and  guide  the 
inexperienced  in  these  studies.  This  book  is 
presented  to  the  public  in  a  most  attractive 
form,  being  excellently  printed  on  excellent 
paper,  and  will  naturally  be  taken  seriously  by 
those  to  whom  it  appeals.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  we  also  have  felt  it  our  duty  to  take  it 
seriously.  And,  as  we  believe  that  every  bad 
book  stands  in  the  way  of  a  good  one,  we  can 
promise  Mr.  Raffety,  and  writers  like  Mr.  Raffety, 
that  we  shall  continue  to  take  them  seriously. 

150 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM^ 

NEARLY  two  thousand  years  ago  Horace 
observed  that,  though  every  calling  pre- 
supposed some  qualification  in  those  who  fol- 
lowed it,  and  a  man  who  knew  nothing  of 
marine  affairs  would  not  undertake  to  manage 
a  ship,  or  a  man  who  knew  nothing  of  drugs  to 
compound  prescriptions,  yet  everybody  fancied 
himself  competent  to  commence  poet.  Qualified 
or  unqualified,  at  it  we  all  go,  he  complains,  and 
scribble  verses.  But  times  have  changed,  and 
those  who  in  Horace's  day  were  the  pests  of 
poetry,  with  which  they  could  amuse  themselves 
without  mischief,  have  now  become  the  pests 
of  another  kind  of  literature  in  which  their 
diversions  are  not  quite  so  harmless.  Where 
the  poetaster  once  stood  the  criticaster  now 
stands.  The  transformation  of  the  one  pest 
into  the  other,  where  they  do  not,  as  they  often 
do,  become  both,  is  easily  accounted  for,  and  as 
Dr.  Johnson  has  so  excellently  explained  it,  we 

*  Retrospective  Reviews.    A  Literary  Log.     By  Bichard 
Le  Gallienne.    2  vols. 

151 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM 

cannot  do  better  than  transcribe  his  words. 
"  Criticism,"  says  the  Doctor,  "  is  a  study  by 
which  men  grow  important  and  formidable  at 
a  very  small  expense.  The  power  of  invention 
has  been  conferred  by  nature  upon  few,  and  the 
labour  of  learning  those  sciences  which  may  by 
mere  labour  be  attained  is  too  great  to  be  wil- 
lingly endured ;  but  every  man  can  exert  such 
judgment  as  he  has  upon  the  works  of  others, 
and  he  whom  nature  has  made  weak  and  idleness 
keeps  ignorant  may  yet  support  his  vanity  by 
the  name  of  critic."  But  criticasters  and  their 
patrons  have  improved  on  this — for  "  he  whom 
nature  has  made  weak  and  idleness  keeps  ignor- 
ant" may,  in  our  time,  not  merely  support  his 
vanity,  but  support  himself. 

Till  we  inspected  the  volumes  before  us,  we 
had  really  no  conception  of  the  pass  to  which 
things  have  now  come  in  so-called  criticism. 
The  writer  sits  in  judgment  on  most  of  the 
authors  who  have,  during  recent  years,  been 
before  the  public.  He  passes  sentence  not 
merely  on  current  novelists,  poets,  and  essayists, 
but  on  some  of  our  classics,  and  on  books  like 
the  late  Mr.  Pater's  Lectures  on  Plato  and 
Platonism  and  Dr.  Wharton's  edition  of  Sappho. 
To  any  acquaintance  with  the  principles  of 
criticism,  to  any  conception  of  criticism  in 
relation  to  principles,  to  any  learning,  to  any 
scholarship,  to  any  knowledge  of  the  history  of 
literature  and  of  the  masterpieces  of  literature, 

152 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM 

either  in  our  own  language  or  in  other  lan- 
guages, he  has  not  the  smallest  pretension.  Nor 
does  he  allow  this  to  be  gathered  simply  from 
the  work  itself,  where  it  is,  needless  to  say, 
abundantly  apparent,  but  with  a  naivete  and 
impudence  which  are  at  once  ludicrous  and  ex- 
asperating he  glories  in  his  ignorance.  Litera- 
ture and  its  interpretation  are  to  him  what  the 
Bible  and  its  interpretation  were  to  the  ranting 
sectaries  of  Dryden's  satire.  In  its  explanation 
knowledge  and  learning  were  folly,  nothing  was 
needed  but  "  grace." 

'*  No  measure  ta'en  from  knowledge,  all  from  grace, 
Study  and  pains  were  now  no  more  their  care, 
Texts  were  explained  by  fasting  and  by  prayer," 

So  to  our  critic  knowledge  and  learning  are  of 
equal  unimportance — nay,  equally  contemptible 
— and  all  that  is  needed  to  take  the  measure  of 
Plato  and  Wordsworth  is,  in  his  own  words, 
"  the  capacity  for  appreciation."  With  this  very 
slender  outfit  he  sits  down  to  the  work  of  criti- 
cism, to  enlighten  the  world  de  omni  scibili  in 
literature,  from  the  lyrics  of  Sappho,  "the  singer, 
a  single  petal  of  whose  rose  is  more  than  the 
whole  rose-gardon  of  later  women  singers,"  to 
"  the  statesmanlike  reach  and  grasp  "  of  Mr.  E. 
Gosse's  essays. 

To  discuss  seriously  the  opinions  or  impres- 
sions of  a  writer  of  this  kind  would  be  as  absurd 
as  to  attempt  to  fight  g^ats  with  a  sword,  and 

153 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM 

we  shall  merely  content  ourselves  with  tran- 
scribing, without  comment,  a  few  of  the  aphorisms 
with  which  these  volumes  are  studded.  "  Criti- 
cism is  the  art  of  praise."  "  Shakespeare  is  the 
greatest  English  poet,  not  because  he  created 
Hamlet  and  Lear,  but  because  he  could  write 
that  speech  about  Perdita's  flowers  and  Claudio's 
speech  on  death  in  Measure  for  Measure." 
"  The  perfection  of  prose  is  the  essay,  of  poetry 
the  lyric,  and  the  most  beautiful  book  is  that 
which  contains  the  most  beautiful  words."  These 
specimens  will  probably  suffice.  Mr.  Le  Gal- 
lienne  is  also  of  opinion  that  "  culture  is  mainly 
a  matter  of  temperament " — that  "  a  man  is 
born  cultured,"  that  mere  education  and  study 
are  to  such  a  one  not  simply  superfluities,  but 
impertinences.  "  What  matters  it,"  he  elo- 
quently asks,  "that  one  does  not  remember  or 
even  has  never  read  great  writers?  Our  one 
concern  is  to  possess  an  organization  open  to 
great  and  refined  impressions."  A  paltry  scholar, 
for  example,  may  be  able  to  construe  Sappho, 
but  it  is  only  "  an  organization  open  to  great 
and  refined  impressions  "  which  can  discern  (in 
a  crib)  "  the  pathos  of  eternity  in  some  twenty 
words "  of  "  this  passionate  singer  of  Lesbos." 
Plato  may  be  studied  by  poor  pedants,  but  to  an 
organization  of  this  kind  the  binding  of  a  volume 
is  sufficient  enlightenment ;  "to  merely  hold  in 
the  hand  and  turn  over  its  pages  is  a  counsel  in 
style,"  for  do  not  "  the  temperate  beauty,  the 

154 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM 

dry  beauty  beloved  of  Plato,  find  expression  in 
the  sweet  and  stately  volume  itself "  [he  is  "  re- 
viewing "  the  late  Mr.  Pater's  lectures  on  Plato], 
"with  its  smooth  night-blue  binding,  its  rose- 
leaf  yellow  pages,  its  soft  and  yet  grave  type  "  ? 
The  value  of  Mr.  Le  Gallienne's  judgments,  of 
his  praise,  and  of  his  censure,  which,  ludicrous 
to  relate,  are  quoted  by  some  publishers  as 
recommendations,  or  "  opinions  of  the  press," 
may  be  estimated  by  these  dicta,  and  by  this 
theory  of  a  critical  education. 

Macaulay  somewhere  speaks  of  a  certain  non- 
descript broth  which,  in  some  Continental  inns, 
was  kept  constantly  boiling,  and  copiously  poured, 
without  distinction,  on  every  dish  as  it  came  up 
to  table.  The  writer  of  these  essays  appears, 
metaphorically  speaking,  to  be  provided  with  a 
similar  abomination.  Whatever  be  his  theme, 
poem,  essay,  novel,  picture,  he  contrives  to  serve 
it  up  with  the  same  condiment,  a  sickly  and 
nauseous  compound  of  preciosity  and  senti- 
mentalism. 

The  melancholy  thing  about  all  this  is  the 
profound  unconsciousness  on  the  part  of  the 
author  of  those  volumes  that  he  is  exciting 
ridicule ;  that  he  is,  in  Shakespeare's  phrase, 
making  himself  a  motley  to  the  view.  But 
there  are  considerations  more  melancholy  still. 
We  should  not  have  noticed  these  volumes  had 
they  not  been  representative  and  typical  of  a 
school   of    so-called   critics   which   is    becoming 

155 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM 

more  and  more  prominent.  Incredible  as  it 
may  seem,  there  are  certain  sections  of  literary 
society  and  of  the  general  public  which  take 
Mr.  Le  Gallienne  and  his  dicta  quite  seriously, 
and  to  which  the  prodigious  nonsense  in  these 
volumes  does  not  present  itself  as  absurdity,  but 
as  the  articles  of  a  creed.  These  essays  have, 
moreover,  appeared  in  publications  the  names  of 
some  of  which  carry  authority.  It  is,  therefore, 
high  time  that  some  stand  should  be  made,  some 
protest  entered  against  writings  which  cannot 
fail  to  corrupt  popular  taste  and  to  degrade  the 
standard  of  popular  literature.  Of  one  thing 
we  are  very  certain,  that  no  self-respecting 
literary  journal  which  undertook  to  review 
these  volumes  could  allow  them  to  pass  without 
denunciation. 

Of  Mr.  Le  Gallienne  we  know  nothing  per- 
sonally. He  is,  if  we  are  rightly  informed,  still 
a  young  man,  and  we  would  in  all  kindness 
exhort  him  to  turn  the  abilities  which  he  un- 
doubtedly possesses  to  better  account.  There  is 
much  in  these  essays  which  shows  that  he  was 
intended  for  something  better  than  to  further  the 
decadence.  If,  instead  of  sneering  at  scholars, 
affecting  to  despise  learning  and  study,  indulging 
in  silly  paradoxes,  tinsel  epigrams,  and  absurd 
generalisations,  he  would  read  and  think,  and 
endeavour  to  do  justice  to  himself  and  to  his 
opportunities,  he  might,  we  make  no  doubt, 
obtain  an  honourable  reputation.    There  is  much 

156 


THE    NEW    CRITICISM 

which  is  attractive  in  his  work,  and  in  tho 
personality  reflected  in  it.  He  is  not  a  char- 
latan, for  though  he  is  ignorant,  he  is  honest. 
Genial  and  sympathetic,  he  has  much  real 
critical  insight,  and,  in  going  through  his 
volumes,  we  have  noted  many  remarks  which 
were  both  sound  and  fine.  At  its  best  his  style 
is  excellent, — clear,  lively,  and  engaging.  Let 
him  cease  to  play  the  buffoon,  which  can  only 
end  in  his  gaining  the  applause  of  mere  fools 
and  the  contempt  of  every  one  else. 


157 


THE  GENTLE  ART  OF  SELF- 
ADVERTISEMENT 

THE  illustrious  Barnum  once  observed  that, 
if  a  man's  capital  consisted  of  a  shilling, 
one  penny  of  that  shilling  should  be  spent  in 
purchasing  something,  and  the  remaining  eleven- 
pence should  be  invested  in  advertising  what  was 
purchased.  There  was,  perhaps,  a  touch  of  ex- 
aggeration in  that  great  man's  remark,  but  it 
was  founded  on  a  profound  knowledge  both  of 
human  nature  and  of  the  world.  Intrinsically 
nothing  is  valuable  ;  things  are  what  we  make 
or  imagine  them.  Even  the  diamond,  as  a  costly 
commodity,  exists  on  suffrage.  If  a  man  cannot 
persuade  his  fellow-creatures  that  he  has  genius, 
talent,  learning,  "  'twere  all  alike  as  if  he  had 
them  not."  What  Persius  asks  with  a  sneer, 
"  Scire  tuum  nihil  est,  nisi  te  scire  hoc  sciat 
alter?" — is  your  knowledge  nothing,  unless  some 
one  else  know  that  you  are  knowing  ? — a  wiser 
man  would  ask  in  all  seriousness.  Shakespeare 
was  never  nearer  the  truth  than  when  he 
wrote — 

158 


GENTLE  ART    OF   SELF-ADVERTISEMENT 

"  No  man  is  the  lord  of  anything, 
Though  in  and  of  him  there  be  much  conaisting, 
Till  he  communicates  his  parts  to  others ; 
Nor  doth  he  of  himself  know  them  for  aught, 
Till  he  behold  them  formed  in  the  applause 
Where  they  are  extended." 

And  never  was  a  man  more  mistaken  than 
the  old  preacher  who  said  to  his  congregation, 
"  If  you  have  a  talent  in  your  napkin,  you 
should  take  care  not  to  hide  it ;  but  if  you  have 
no  talent,  but  only  a  napkin,  you  should  not  so 
flourish  your  napkin  as  to  create  the  impression 
that  it  is  full  of  talents."  Why,  this  is  just  what 
nine  men  in  ten  who  court  fame  have  to  do. 
Nature  is  kind,  but  seldom  profuse.  If  she 
really  endows  a  man  with  what,  if  trumpeted, 
would  make  him  famous,  the  odds  are  she 
couples  with  her  gifts  pride,  modesty,  or  self- 
respect,  which,  to  say  the  least,  heavily  handicap 
him  in  the  race  for  reputation.  When  she  does 
not  endow  with  the  reality,  she  compensates  by 
bestowing  the  power  of  acquiring  the  credit  for 
it.  She  is,  as  a  rule,  much  too  thrifty  to  heap 
on  the  same  man  the  keen  pleasures  of  genuine 
enthusiasm  and  the  sweets  of  popular  applause. 
An  impartial  mother,  she  loves  all  her  children, 
and  divides  her  favours  equally  between  shams 
and  true  men.  This  Churchill  marks  in  his 
brutal  way  ;  speaking  of  a  certain  contemporary, 
he  describes  him  as  endowed  with 

"  That  low  cunning  which  in  fools  supplies, 
And  amply  too,  the  place  of  being  wise, 

150 


THE    GENTLE   ART   OP 

Which  Nature,  kind,  indulgent  parent,  gave 
To  qualify  the  blockhead  for  a  knave." 

But  our  business  is  not  with  knaves  and  block- 
heads, but  with  "  gentler  cattle,"  and  the  quota- 
tion demands  an  apology. 

The  importance  of  the  art  of  self-advertise- 
ment, as  must  be  abundantly  clear  from  the 
preceding  remarks,  can  scarcely  be  overesti- 
mated. Though  it  is  perhaps  still  in  its  infancy, 
its  progress  during  the  last  few  years  has  been 
most  encouraging.  The  old  coarse  methods  so 
familiar  to  us  in  the  past,  and  still  successfully 
practised  in  the  present — we  mean  mutual  ad- 
miration cliques,  log-rolling,  and  what  is  vul- 
garly known  as  "  pulling  the  strings " — have 
been  greatly  improved  upon  and  refined.  Bent- 
ley's  famous  remark  when,  explaining  how  it 
was  that  he  took  to  commentating,  he  said, 
that  as  he  despaired  of  standing  on  his  own 
legs  in  the  Temple  of  Fame,  he  got  on  to  the 
shoulders  of  the  Ancients,  appears  to  have 
suggested  one  of  the  most  ingenious  of  modern 
expedients.  This  consists  of  "  getting  up "  a 
memorial  to  some  distinguished  man — a  statue, 
it  may  be,  or  modest  bust.  Some  labour,  some 
ability,  and  some  learning  are  involved  in  the 
more  cumbrous  device  of  Bentley.  But  here 
all  is  simple  and  very  easy.  You  are  on  the 
shoulders  of  your  great  man  at  a  bound,  and 
stand  side  by  side  with  him  in  a  trice.  There 
is  nothing  which  redounds  to  his  credit  which 

160 


SELF-ADVERTISEMENT 

does  not  redound  to  your  own.  As  the  Red 
Indian  is  under  the  impression  that  in  possess- 
ing himself  of  a  scalp  he  possesses  himself  of 
the  virtues  belonging  to  the  former  owner  of 
the  scalp,  so  this  tribute  of  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion quietly  assumes,  without  trouble,  all  that 
enthusiastic  admiration  naturally  implies.  Is 
the  object  of  your  homage  a  poet,  a  critic,  a 
scholar,  the  very  fact  that  you  pay  him  homage 
is,  in  itself,  testimony  of  your  own  right  to  one 
or  other  of  these  honourable  titles.  If,  more- 
over it  should  happen  that  you  know  very  little 
about  the  writings  of  the  author  whom  you  have 
elected  to  honour,  this  is  of  no  consequence  ;  for 
of  all  the  disguises  which  ignorance  can  assume, 
"  enthusiasm "  is  the  most  effective.  Nor  are 
these  the  only  advantages  of  this  particular 
method  of  getting  reputation.  The  collection  of 
subscriptions  and  the  formation  of  a  committee 
bring  you  into  contact,  or  may,  if  judiciously 
managed,  bring  you  into  contact  with  all  your 
distinguished  contemporaries ;  and  we  know 
what  the  proverb  says — "  Noscitur  a  sociis  " — a 
man  is  what  his  companions  are. 

But  nothing  is  more  effectual,  for  purposes  of 
self-advertisement,  than  a  device  which  has  lately 
been  practised  with  signal  success.  This  consists 
of  scraping  up  an  acquaintance  with  some  per- 
son, whose  name  is  not  unknown  to  the  public, 
—even  a  second-rate  novelist  will  do — and  wait- 
ing till  he  dies.     As  there  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs 

E.G.  101  L 


THE    GENTLE   ART   OF 

of  men,  so,  as  we  all  know,  there  is  a  moment 
at  the  demise  of  literary  men  when  the  voracity 
of  public  curiosity  knows  neither  distinction  nor 
satiety.  This  is  the  moment  for  the  self-adver- 
tiser to  nick  ;  this  is  the  time  for  him  to  float, 
with  his  defunct  friend,  on  the  lips  of  men.  He 
will  find  readers  for  anything  he  may  choose  to 
print — that  letter  with  its  exquisite  compli- 
ments, that  conversation  in  which  his  poor 
attainments  were  so  generously  over-estimated, 
or  the  importance  of  his  slight  literary  services 
so  much  exaggerated.  Of  course,  the  value  of 
such  advertisements  will  be  in  proportion  to  the 
eminence  of  the  subject  of  the  reminiscences — 
and  happy,  thrice  happy,  those  who  were  able  to 
turn  men  like  Darwin,  Tennyson,  and  Browning 
to  this  account ;  their  reputation  may  be  re- 
garded as  made.  But  it  is  not  always  necessary 
to  wait  till  great  men  die,  though  it  is  an  ex- 
periment too  bold  and  perilous  for  most  as- 
pirants to  make  this  sort  of  capital  out  of  them 
while  they  are  still  alive.  Still  audentes  fortuna 
juvat,  and  it  has  been  done.  A  certain  minor 
poet  published  in  an  American  magazine,  not 
many  years  ago,  an  article  entitled  "  A  Day  with 
Lord  Tennyson,"  in  which  he  represented  the 
Laureate  as  turning  the  conversation  on  his 
(the  minor  bard's)  poetry.  We  are  told  how  the 
great  man,  after  fervently  reiterating  a  stanza 
of  that  minor  bard  which  pleased  him,  requested 
his  son  to  take  it  down  in  writing ;  how  that  son, 

162 


SELF-ADVERTISEMENT 

though  the  day  was  cold  and  blowy,  took  it 
down  ;  how  Tennyson  grasped,  at  parting,  his 
brother  poet's  hand,  and  begged  in  transport 
that  he  would  "come  again  and  come  often." 
He  came,  we  believe,  no  more.  But  what  of 
that?  Ho  had  accomplished  a  feat  so  simple 
and  yet  so  original  that  it  may  fairly  be  ques- 
tioned whether  what  Mr.  Burnum  used  to  call 
his  masterpiece  was  in  any  way  comparable  to 
it.  To  interview  a  great  man,  even  on  an  as- 
sumption of  equality,  is,  as  we  all  know,  a  com- 
paratively easy  matter,  but  to  turn  the  conver- 
sation of  the  great  man  into  a  seasonable  puff 
of  yourself  requires  a  combination  of  qualities 
not  often  united  in  a  single  person.  The  worst 
of  feats  like  these  is  that  they  must  have  a  ten- 
dency to  make  great  men  a  little  shy  of  en- 
couraging the  acquaintance  of  those  to  whom 
they  can  be  so  useful.  But  simplicity,  as  Thucy- 
dides  remarks,  is  one  of  the  chief  ingredients  of 
greatness,  and  it  is  a  quality  very  difficult  to 
wear  out. 

If  Tennyson's  interviewer  has  ever  had  a  rival 
in  the  important  art  which  has  been  discussed 
— for  the  benefit  of  youthful  ambition — in  this 
article,  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  that  rival 
was  the  Rev.  Aris  Willmott.  This  now  almost 
forgotten  writer  was  a  very  voluminous  author 
both  in  verse  and  prose  ;  but  his  merits  were 
not  appreciated  by  an  ungrateful  public  so  much 
as  they  ought  to  have  been.    He  resorted,  there- 

163 


GENTLE  ART  OF  SELF-ADVERTISEMENT 

fore,  to  the  following  exquisitely  ingenious  de- 
vice. He  published  a  handsome  volume,  which 
is  now  before  us,  entitled  Gems  from  English 
Literature,  thus  arranged :  Bacon,  Rev.  Aris 
Willmott,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Rev.  Aris  Willmott, 
Barrow,  Rev.  Aris  Willmott,  sandwiching  him- 
self regularly  through  the  prose  classics,  and  in 
the  same  way  through  the  poets — Shakespeare, 
Rev.  Aris  Willmott,  Milton,  Rev.  Aris,  etc.  As 
birthday  books,  press  notices,  interviews  at 
home,  portraits  of  distinguished  authors  in  their 
studies,  and  the  like  are  getting  a  little  stale, 
we  cordially  recommend  this  rev.  gentleman's 
expedient — it  may  be  judiciously  modified — to 
the  notice  of  all  who  are  unable  to  distinguish 
fame  from  notoriety. 


164 


R.   L.   STEVENSON'S   LETTERS* 

THE  late  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  is  a  writer 
who  has  every  title  to  commiseration,  and 
the  appearance  of  the  volumes  before  us  may  be 
said  to  mark  the  climax  of  his  misfortunes. 
Diseased  and  sickly  from  his  birth,  with  his  life 
frequently  hanging  on  a  thread,  he  probably 
never  knew  the  sensation  of  perfect  health. 
During  the  impressionable  years  of  early  youth 
his  surroundings  appear  to  have  been  most  un- 
congenial ;  he  was  forced  into  a  profession  for 
which  he  had  no  taste  and  no  aptitude.  In 
constant  straits  for  money,  at  times  he  was 
miserably  poor ;  his  apprenticeship  to  letters 
was  long  and  arduous,  for  he  was  not  one  of 
Nature's  favourites,  and  attained  what  he  did 
attain  by  unsparing  and  severe  labour.  His 
wandering  and  restless  life,  bringing  him  as  it 
did  into  contact  with  all  phases  of  humanity  and 
with  all  parts  of  the  world,  was  of  course  in 

'  The  Letters  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  to  his  Family  and 
Friends.  Selected  and  Edited  with  Notes  and  Introduction 
by  Sidney  Colvin.    2  vols. 

165 


R.   L.   STEVENSON'S   LETTERS 

many  respects  favourable  to  his  work,  but  it 
had  at  the  same  time  serious  disadvantages.  It 
gave  him  little  time  for  reflection ;  it  imported 
a  certain  feverishness  into  his  energy,  and 
rendered  that  concentration  and  steadiness, 
without  which  no  really  great  work  can  be 
accomplished,  impossible.  That  in  these  cir- 
cumstances Stevenson  should  have  produced  so 
much,  and  so  much  which  is  of  a  high  order 
of  merit,  is  most  creditable  to  him,  and  not  a 
little  surprising.  "  He  stands,"  says  his  friend 
Professor  Colvin,  **  as  the  writer  who  in  the  last 
quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  has  handled 
with  the  most  of  freshness  and  inspiriting  power 
the  widest  range  of  established  literary  forms — 
the  moral,  critical  and  personal  essay,  travels 
sentimental  and  other,  parables  and  tales  of 
mystery,  boys'  stories  of  adventure,  memoirs ; 
nor  let  lyrical  and  meditative  verse  both  English 
and  Scottish,  and  especially  nursery  verse,  a 
new  vein  for  genius  to  work  in,  bo  forgotten." 
With  some  reservation  this  may  be  conceded, 
and  this  is  as  far  as  eulogy  can  legitimately  be 
stretched. 

But,  unhappily,  some  of  Stevenson's  admirers 
have  made  themselves  and  their  idol  ridiculous, 
by  raising  him  to  a  position  his  claims  to  which 
are  preposterous.  If  he  be  measured  with  his 
contemporaries  the  comparison  will  generally 
be  in  his  favour — he  certainly  did  best  what 
hundreds  can  do  well.     His  essays  have  distinc- 

166 


R.   L.   STEVENSON'S   LETTERS 

tion  and  excellence ;  his  novels,  travels,  and 
short  tales,  though  scarcely  entitled  to  the  praise 
of  originality,  as  they  strike  no  new  notes  and 
are  mere  variants  of  the  work  of  Scott,  King- 
ston, Ballantyne,  De  Quincey  and  Poe,  bear  the 
impress  of  genius  as  distinguished  from  mere 
talent,  and  reflect  a  very  charming  personality ; 
his  verse,  too,  is  pleasing  and  skilful.  But  when 
we  are  told  that  he  will  stand  the  third  in  a  trio 
with  Burns  and  Scott,  and  when  we  have  to  listen 
to  serious  appeals  to  Edinburgh  to  raise  a  statue 
to  him  beside  the  author  of  Marinion  and  the 
Waverley  Novels,  all  who  truly  appreciate  his 
work  may  well  tremble  for  the  reaction  which  is 
certain  to  succeed  such  extravagant  overestima- 
tion.  The  truth  is  that  poor  Stevenson,  himself 
one  of  the  simplest,  sincerest  and  most  modest 
of  men,  got  involved  with  a  clique  who  may  be 
described  as  manufacturers  of  factitious  reputa- 
tions,— the  circulators  of  a  false  currency  in 
criticism.  In  these  days  of  appeals  to  the  masses 
it  is  as  easy  to  write  up  the  sort  of  works  which 
are  addressed  to  them — popular  essays,  tales  and 
novels — as  it  is  to  write  up  the  commodities  of 
quack  doctors  and  the  shares  of  bogus  com- 
panies. The  production  of  popular  literature  is 
now  a  trade,  and  in  some  cases  this  kind  of 
puffery  is  the  work  of  deliberate  fraud,  origin- 
ating from  various  motives.  In  many  cases  it 
simply  springs  from  ignorance  and  critical  in- 
competence, current  criticism   being,  to  a  con- 

167 


R.   L.   STEVENSON'S   LETTERS 

siderable  extent,  in  the  hands  of  very  young  men 
who,  having  neither  the  requisite  knowledge  nor 
the  proper  training,  are  unable  to  judge  a  writer 
comparatively.  In  other  cases  it  is  to  be  attri- 
buted to  good  nature  and  the  tendency  in  the 
genial  appreciation  of  real  merit  to  indulge  in 
extravagant  expression.  But  the  result  is  the 
same.  A  reputation,  so  grotesquely  out  of  pro- 
portion to  what  is  really  merited  that  sober 
people  are  inclined  to  suspect  thac  all  is  im- 
posture, is  gradually  inflated.  Eulogy  kindles 
eulogy ;  hyperbole  is  heaped  on  hyperbole ;  a 
ludicrous  importance  is  attached  to  every  trifle 
which  falls,  or  which  ever  has  fallen,  from  this 
Press-created  Fetish.  While  he  is  alive  he  is 
encouraged,  or  rather  importuned,  to  force  his 
power  of  production  to  keep  pace  with  the 
demand  for  everything  bearing  his  signature  ; 
when  he  is  dead  the  very  refuse  of  his  study 
finds  eager  publishers. 

This  kind  of  thing  has  obviously  many  ad- 
vantages, which  are  by  no  means  confined  to 
the  object  of  the  idolatry  itself.  In  the  first 
place  it  means  business  ;  it  is  the  creation  of  a 
goose  which  can  lay  golden  eggs,  and  it  is,  in 
the  second  place,  a  creation  which  reflects  no 
little  glory  on  the  creators.  Is  it  nothing 
to  be  the  satellites  of  so  radiant  a  luminary  ? 
When  the  familiar  correspondence  of  the  great 
man  is  printed,  will    not  what  he  was  pleased 

168 


R.  L.  STEVENSON'S  LETTERS 

to  say,  with  all  the  friendly  license  of  private 
intercourse,  in  the  way  of  compliment  and 
eulogy,  be  proclaimed  from  the  house-tops  ? 

All  this  is  exactly  what  has  happened  in  the 
case  of  poor  Stevenson.  No  man  ever  took 
more  justly  his  own  measure,  or  would  have 
been  more  annoyed  at  the  preposterous  eulo- 
gies of  which  he  has  been  made  the  subject, 
on  the  part  of  interested  or  ill-judging  friends. 
We  wonder  what  he  would  himself  have  said, 
could  he  have  seen  the  letters  before  us  de- 
scribed, as  they  were  described  in  one  of  the 
current  Reviews,  as  "  the  most  exhaustive  and 
distinguished  literary  correspondence  which 
England  has  ever  seen."  We  entirely  absolve 
Professor  Colvin  from  any  suspicion  of  being 
actuated  by  unworthy  motives  in  publishing 
them.  It  is  abundantly  clear  that  he  has  not 
published  them  to  puff  himself,  that  his  labour 
has  been  a  labour  of  love,  and  that  he  be- 
lieved himself  to  be  piously  fulfilling  a  duty 
to  his  friend.  But  they  ought  never  to  have 
been  given  to  the  world.  More  than  two- 
thirds  have  nothing  whatever  to  justify  their 
appearance  in  print,  and  merely  show,  what 
will  surprise  those  who  knew  Stevenson  by  his 
literary  writings,  how  vapid,  vulgar  and  com- 
monplace he  could  be.  In  their  slangy  famili- 
arity and  careless  spontaneity  they  remind  us 
of  Byron's,  but  what  a  contrast  do  these  trivial 

169 


R.   L.   STEVENSON'S  LETTERS 

and  too  often  insipid  tattlings  present  to  Byron's 
brilliance  and  point,  his  wit,  his  piquancy,  his 
insight  into  life  and  men  !  Only  here  and  there, 
in  a  touch  of  description,  or  in  a  casual  reflec- 
tion, do  we  find  anything  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  myriads  of  letters  which  are  inter- 
changed between  young  men  every  day  in  the 
year.  Their  one  attraction  lies  in  the  glimpses 
they  reveal  of  Stevenson's  own  charming  person- 
ality, his  kindliness,  his  sympathy,  his  great 
modesty,  his  manliness,  his  transparent  truthful- 
ness and  honesty.  It  is  amusing  to  watch  him 
with  one  of  his  correspondents  who  was  evidently 
endeavouring  to  establish  a  mutual  exchange 
of  flattery.  The  urbane  skill  with  which  this 
gentleman's  persistently  fulsome  compliments 
are  either  fenced  or  waived  aside,  the  ironical 
delicacy  with  which,  when  a  return  is  extorted, 
they  are  repaid,  in  a  measure  strictly  adjusted  to 
desert  and  yet  certain  not  to  disappoint  ex- 
pectant vanity,  are  quite  exquisite.  "  The  suns 
go  swiftly  out,"  he  writes  to  him,  referring  to 
the  death  of  Tennyson  and  Browning  and 
others,  "  and  I  see  no  suns  to  follow,  nothing 
but  a  universal  twilight  of  the  demi-divinities, 
with  parties  like  you  and  me  beating  on  toy 
drums,  and  playing  on  penny  whistles  about 
glow-worms."  The  indignant  letter  to  the  New 
York  Tribune,  in  defence  of  James  Payn,  who 
had  been  accused  of  plagiarising  from  one  of 
Stevenson's   fictions,    well    deserves    placing   on 

170 


R.   L.   STEVENSON'S  LETTERS 

permanent    record,    as   an    illustration    of    his 
chivalrous  loyalty  to  his  friends. 

We  are  sorry,  we  repeat,  that  these  letters 
have  been  given  to  the  world.  So  far  as 
Stevenson's  reputation  is  concerned  they  can 
only  detract  from  it.  When  they  illustrate  him 
on  his  best  side  they  merely  emphasise  what 
iiis  works  illustrate  so  abundantly  that  further 
illustration  is  a  mere  work  of  supererogation. 
When  they  present  him,  as  for  the  most  part 
they  do,  in  dishabille,  they  exhibit  him  very 
greatly  to  his  disadvantage.  If  Professor  Colvin 
had  printed  about  one-third  of  them,  and  re- 
tained his  excellent  elucidatory  introductions, 
which  form  practically  a  biography  of  Stevenson, 
he  would  have  produced  a  work  for  which  all 
admirers  of  that  most  pleasing  writer  would 
have  thanked  him.  As  it  is,  he  has  been  guilty, 
in  our  opinion,  of  a  grave  error  of  judgment. 


171 


LITERARY  ICONOCLASM  » 

AMONG  the  worthies  of  the  fifteenth  century 
there  is  no  more  interesting  and  pictur- 
esque figure  than  the  Poet-King  of  Scotland, 
James  I.  Long  before  the  poem  on  which  his 
fame  rests  was  given  to  the  world,  tradition  had 
assigned  him  a  high  place  among  native  makers, 
and  his  countrymen  had  been  proud  to  add  to 
the  names  of  Dunbar  and  Douglas,  of  Henryson 
and  Lyndsay,  the  name  of  the  best  of  their 
kings.  Great  was  their  joy,  therefore,  when,  in 
1783,  William  Tytler  gave  public  proof  that  the 
good  King's  title  to  the  laurel  was  no  mere  title 
by  courtesy,  but  that  he  had  been  the  author  of 
a  poem  which  could  fairly  be  regarded  as  one  of 
the  gems  of  Scottish  literature.  There  cannot, 
in  truth,  be  two  opinions  about  the  Kingis 
Quair.  It  is  a  poem  of  singular  charm  and 
beauty,  and,  though  it  is  modelled  closely  on 
certain  of  Chaucer's  minor  poems,  and  is  in 
other   respects   largely  indebted  to  them,    it   is 

*  TTie  Authorship  of  the  Kingis  Quair.    A  New  Criticism 
by  J.  T.  T.  Brown. 

172 


LITERARY   IC0N0CLA8M 

no  servile  imitation ;  it  boars  the  impress  of 
original  genius,  not  so  much  in  details  and  in- 
cident as  in  tone,  colour,  and  touch ;  it  is  a 
brilliant  and  most  memorable  achievement,  and 
Rossetti  hardly  exaggerates  when  he  describes 

it  as 

"  More  sweet  than  ever  a  poet's  heart 
Gave  yet  to  the  English  tongue." 

For  more  than  a  hundred  years  it  has  been  the 
delight  of  all  who  care  for  the  poetry  of  the 
past,  and  the  story  it  teUs,  and  tells  so  patheti-' 
cally,  is  now  among  the  "  consecrated  legends  ' 
which  every  one  cherishes.  "The  best  poet 
among  kings,  and  the  best  king  among  poets," 
the  name  of  the  author  of  the  Kingis  Quair 
heads  the  list  of  royal  authors.  The  stanza 
which  he  employed,  though  invented  or  adopted 
by  Chaucer,  takes  its  title  from  the  King,  and 
"  the  rime  royal "  will  be  in  perpetual  evidence 
of  his  services  to  poetry,  as  the  University  of  St. 
Andrews  will  be  of  his  services  to  learning  and 
education.  No  generation  has  passed,  from  Sir 
Walter  Scott  to  Mrs.  Browning,  and  from  Mrs. 
Browning  to  Gabriel  Rossetti,  which  has  not 
been  lavish  of  honour  and  homage  to  him. 

But,  it  seems,  we  have  all  been  under  a  delu- 
sion. Our  simple  ancestors  believed  that  James 
was  the  author  of  Peebles  to  the  Play  and 
ChHsVs  Kirk  on  the  Green ;  but  Peebles  to 
the  Play  and  Christ's  Kirk  on  the  Ch^een 
"  are  now  " — Mr.   J.  T,  T.  Brown  is  speaking — 

173 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

"  relegated  to  the  anonymous  poetry  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  inexorably  deposed  by  the 
internal  evidence  "  ;  and  Mr.  BFOwn  aspires  to 
send  the  Kingis  Quair  the  same  way.  His 
fell  purpose  is  "  to  deprive  James  of  his  singing 
garment,  and  reduce  him  to  the  humbler  rank 
of  a  King  of  Scots."  There  is  something  almost 
terrible  in  the  exultation  with  which  Mr.  Brown 
assumes  that — the  King's  claim  to  every  other 
poem  attributed  to  him  having  been  completely 
demolished — it  only  remains  to  deprive  him  of 
the  Kingis  Quair,  to  make  his  poetical  bankruptcy 
complete.  And  to  the  demolition  of  the  King's 
claim  to  the  "  Quair  "  Mr.  Brown  ruthlessly  pro- 
ceeds. Now  we  have  no  intention  of  entering 
into  the  question  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
minor  poems  to  which  Mr.  Brown  refers ;  but 
we  shall  certainly  break  a  lance  with  this 
destructive  critic  in  defence  of  James's  claim 
to  the  Kingis  Quair. 

Mr.  Brown  contends,  first,  that  there  is  no 
satisfactory  external  evidence  in  favour  of  the 
King's  authorship  of  the  poem  ;  and,  secondly, 
that  the  internal  evidence  is  almost  conclusive 
against  him.  What  are  the  facts  ?  In  the  Bod- 
leian Library  is  a  MS.  the  date  of  which  is  un- 
certain, but  it  cannot  be  assigned  to  an  earlier 
period  than  1488.  This  MS.  contains  certain 
poems  of  Chaucer,  Hoccleve,  Lydgate,  and  others, 
together  with  the  Kingis  Quair.  Of  the  Kingis 
Quair  it  is,  so  far  as  is  known,  the  only  MS.,  and 

174 


LITERARY  ICONOCLASM 

to  it  alone  we  owe  the  preservation  of  the  poem. 
Both  title  and  colophon  assign  the  work  to 
James  I.,  the  words  being  :  "  Heireefter  followis 
the  quair  Maid  be  King  James  of  Scotland  ye 
first,  callit  ye  Kingis  quair,  and  Maid  qnhen  his 
Ma.  wes  in  Ingland,"  the  colophon  running, 
"  Explicit,  &c.,  &c.,  quod  Jacobus  primus  sco- 
tonim  rex  lUustrissimus."  This  is  surely  pre- 
cise enough ;  but  Mr.  Brown  insists  that  the 
statement  carries  very  little  weight,  being  no 
more  than  the  ipse  dioeit  of  not  merely  an 
irresponsible,  but  of  an  unusually  reckless  copy- 
ist. The  recklessness  of  this  copyist  Mr.  Brown 
deduces  from  the  fact  that,  of  ten  poems  at- 
tributed to  Chaucer  in  the  same  MS.,  five  un- 
doubtedly do  not  belong  to  him.  On  this  we 
shall  only  remark  that  it  would  be  interesting 
to  know  whether  these  poems  have  been  attri- 
buted to  Chaucer  in  other  MSS.  In  any  case, 
Mr.  Brown  musij  surely  know  that  it  is  a  very 
different  thing  for  a  copyist  to  miss-assign  a 
few  short  poems  and  to  make  a  statement  so 
explicit  as  the  statement  here  made  with  re- 
gard to  the  Kingis  Quair.  He  must  either 
have  been  guilty  of  deliberate  fraud  —  and 
what  right  have  wo  to  assume  this? — or  he 
must  have  been  misled,  an  hypothesis  which  is 
equally  unwarrantable,  unless  it  be  adequately 
supported.  And  how  does  Mr.  Brown  proceed 
to  support  it?  He  contends  that  we  have  no 
satisfactory  evidence   from   other   sources   that 

175 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

James  was  the  author  of  the  poem.  Walter 
Bower,  the  one  contemporary  historian,  though 
he  gives  in  his  Scotichromcon  an  elaborate  ac- 
count of  the  King's  accomplishments,  is  silent, 
Mr.  Brown  triumphantly  observes,  about  his 
poetry.  This  may  be  conceded.  But  Weldon  is 
equally  silent  about  the  poetry  of  James  VI., 
and  Buchanan  about  the  poetry  of  Mary.  And 
what  says  the  next  historian,  John  Major?  "In 
the  vernacular " — we  give  the  passage  in  Mr. 
Brown's  own  version — "he  was  a  most  skilful 
composer.  .  .  .  He  wrote  a  clever  little 
book  about  the  Queen  before  he  took  her  to 
wife  and  while  he  was  a  prisoner,"  a  plain 
reference  to  the  Kingis  Quair.  Testimony  to 
his  poetical  ability  is  also  given  by  Hector  Boyes 
in  his  History  of  Scotland,  "  In  lingua  vernacula 
tarn  ornata  faciebat  carmina,  ut  poetam  natum 
credidisses."  So  say  John  Bellenden,  John  Les- 
lie, and  George  Buchanan.  Of  these  witnesses 
Mr.  Brown  coolly  observes  that  they  carry  little 
or  no  weight,  because  they  only  echo  each  other 
and  Major.  Major,  Mr.  Brown  insists,  is  "  the 
sole  authority  for  the  ascription  to  James  of  the 
vernacular  poems."  Certainly  fame  in  the  face 
of  such  critics  as  Mr.  Brown  is  held  on  a  very 
precarious  tenure.  Dunbar,  in  his  Lament  of 
the  Makams,  enumerates,  continues  our  critic, 
twenty-one  Scottish  poets,  but  passes  James 
over  in  silence,  therefore  James's  title  to  being 
a  poet   was   unknown   to   him.     Possibly ;   but 

176 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

that  Dunbar's  list  was  not  meant  to  be  ex- 
haustive is  proved  by  the  fact  that  he  makes 
no  mention  of  a  poet,  and  of  a  considerable  poet, 
who  must  have  been  well  known  to  him,  Thomas 
of  Ercildoune.  Nothing  can  be  more  misleading 
than  deductions  like  these.  Ovid  has  given  us 
an  elaborate  catalogue  of  the  poets  of  his  time, 
but  makes  no  mention  of  Manilius.  Heywood 
and  Taylor  have  given  elaborate  catalogues  of 
the  contemporary  Elizabethan  dramatists  and 
make  no  mention  of  Cyril  Toumeur.  Addison 
has  given  us  an  account  of  the  principal  English 
poets,  and  makes  no  mention  of  Shakespeare.  If 
Dante's  and  Chaucer's  acquaintance  with  their 
distinguished  brethren  is  to  be  estimated  by 
those  whom  they  noticed,  it  must  have  been  far 
more  limited  than  we  know  it,  by  other  evidence, 
to  have  been.  Lyndsay,  again,  is  cited  as  testi- 
mony of  ignorance  of  James's  title  to  rank 
among  poets  ;  but  in  the  list,  in  which  he  is  silent 
about  James,  he  is  silent  about  poets  so  famous 
as  Barbour,  Blind  Harry,  Wyntown,  Kennedy, 
and  Douglas. 

Mr.  Brown  next  proceeds  to  the  question  of 
internal  evidence.  He  cannot  understand  how 
it  could  come  to  pass,  that  a  Scotchman,  who  left 
his  native  country  when  he  was  under  twelve 
years  of  age,  and  who  was  educated  by  English 
tutors  in  England,  should,  after  eighteen  years 
of  exile,  employ  "  the  Lowland  Scottish  dialect." 
This    is    surely   not   very   difficult    to    explain. 

E.c.  177  M 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

Nothing  so  much  endears  his  country  to  a  man 
as  exile,  and  nothing  is  more  cherished  by  a 
patriot  than  his  native  language.  Ten  years' 
exile  among  the  Getse  did  not  corrupt  the  Latin- 
ity  of  Ovid,  and  more  than  twenty  years'  exile 
did  not  impair  the  purity  of  Thucydides'  Attic. 
The  King  may  have  had  English  tutors,  but 
Wyntown  distinctly  tells  us  that  he  was  al- 
lowed to  retain,  as  his  companions,  four  of  his 
countrymen.  When  he  served  in  France  he  had 
a  Scottish  bodyguard.  The  document  in  the 
King's  own  handwriting,  printed  by  Chalmers, 
proves  that  in  1412  he  was  conversant  with  the 
Lowland  dialect.  In  all  probability,  therefore, 
he  carefully  cherished  his  native  language.  The 
consensus  of  tradition  places  it  beyond  all  doubt 
that  he  composed  poetry  in  the  vernacular,  and 
as  he  wrote  the  Kingis  Quair  when  he  knew 
that  he  was  about  to  return  to  Scotland  as  its 
king,  it  was  surely  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  that  he  should  compose  a  poem  which  told 
the  story  of  himself  and  his  young  bride,  whom 
he  was  introducing  to  his  subjects  as  their  queen, 
in  the  language  of  the  country.  But,  says  Mr. 
Brown,  it  is  the  Lowland  dialect,  with  inflex- 
ions peculiar  to  Midland  English,  with  many 
Chaucerian  inflections  engrafted  on  it.  And 
what  more  natural  ?  The  Midland  dialect  was 
the  dialect  of  his  English  teachers.  The  poems 
of  Chaucer  he  probably  had  by  heart. 

Mr.  Brown's  object  in   all  this  is  to  relegate 
178 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

the  Kingis  Quair  to  that  group  of  poems 
which  are  represented  by  the  Romaunt  of  the 
Rose,  The  Court  of  Love,  and  Lancelot  of  the  Lak, 
which  appeared  late  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  in  which  all  these  peculiarities  are  very 
pronounced.  Into  philological  details  we  have 
not  space  to  enter,  but  this  we  will  say.  We 
will  admit  that  ane  before  a  consonant,  the 
past  participle  in  yt  or  it,  the  pronouns  thaire 
and  thaine,  the  plural  form  quhilkis,  the  employ- 
ment of  the  verb  to  do  in  the  emphatic  conjuga- 
tion and  the  like,  are  peculiarities  which  belong 
to  a  period  not  earlier  than  about  1440,  and 
that  all  these  peculiarities  are  to  be  found  in 
the  poem.  But,  we  contend  that  these  are  just 
as  likely  to  be  due  to  the  transcriber  as  they 
are  to  the  author.  Nothing  was  so  common 
with  copyists  as  to  import  into  their  texts 
the  peculiarities  of  their  own  dialects,  indeed  it 
was  habitual  with  them.  Thus  Hampole's  Pricke 
of  Conscience  was  greatly  altered  by  southern 
scribes.  Thus,  in  the  Bannatyne  MS.,  Chaucer's 
minor  poems  were  similarly  altered  by  northern 
scribes.  It  is,  in  truth,  the  very  height  of  rashness 
to  dispute  the  genuineness  of  an  original,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  presence  of  peculiarities  which 
might  quite  well  have  been  imported  into  it  by 
a  copyist.  The  resemblances  between  this  poem 
and  the  Court  of  Love  are,  we  admit,  not 
likely  to  have  been  mere  coincidences,  and  we 
are  quite  ready  to  admit  that  the  Court  of  Love 

179 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

in  the  form  in  which  we  have  it  now,  must  be 
assigned  to  a  much  later  date,  more  than  a 
century  later,  than  the  date  (1423)  assigned  to 
the  Kingis  Quair.  But  this  is  certain — that 
many,  and  very  many,  of  the  resemblances 
between  the  two  poems  are  to  be  attributed 
to  the  fact  that  the  writers  were  saturated 
with  the  influence  of  Chaucer,  and  delighted 
in  imitating  and  recalling  his  poetry.  If, 
again,  it  be  assumed  that  one  poem  was  the 
exemplar  of  the  other,  this  is  indisputable,  that 
the  Court  of  Love  was  modelled  on  the  Kingis 
Qaaivy  and  not  the  Kingis  Quair  on  the  Court 
of  Love.  For,  setting  aside  peculiarities  which 
may  be  assigned  to  transcribers,  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  the  Court  of  Love  belongs  to 
the  sixteenth  century  at  the  very  earliest, 
while  Mr.  Brown  himself  admits  that  the  MS. 
of  the  Kingis  Quair  may  be  approximately 
fixed  at  1488. 

Nothing  can  be  more  unsatisfactory  than  Mr. 
Brown's  attempt  to  show  that  the  poem  breaks 
down  in  autobiographical  details,  and  that  it 
derives  these  details  from  Wyntown's  Chronicle. 
James  does  not  mention  the  exact  year  in  which 
he  was  taken  prisoner.  He  tells  us  that  he 
commenced  his  voyage  when  the  sun  had  begun 
to  drive  his  course  upward  in  the  sign  of  Aries, 
that  is,  on  or  about  the  12th  of  March — and  that 
he  had  not  far  passed  the  state  of  innocence, 
"  bot  nere  about  the  nowmer  of  zeris  thre  " — in 

180 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

other  words,  that  he  was  about  ten  years  of  age. 
Hereupon  Mr.  Brown,  assuming  that  Wyntown 
gives  the  date  of  the  King's  birth  correctly,  pro- 
ceeds to  point  out  that  the  King  was  not  at  this 
time  "  about  ten,"  but  that  he  was  about  eleven 
and  a  half  ;  and  then  asks  triumphantly  whether 
James  would  have  been  likely  to  forget  his  own 
age.  Again,  ho  contends  that  the  King's  capture 
could  not  have  taken  place  in  March,  because  it 
is  highly  probable  that  at  the  end  of  February, 
or  at  the  beginning  of  March,  the  King  was  in 
the  Tower.  For  the  fact  that  he  was  in  the 
Tower  at  that  date  there  is  not  an  iota  of  proof, 
or  even  of  tolerably  satisfactory  presumptive 
evidence.  How  the  author  of  the  Kingis 
Qaair  could  have  been  indebted  to  Wyntown's 
Chronicle  for  the  autobiographical  details  it  is, 
indeed,  difficult  to  see.  The  poem  gives  March 
as  the  date  of  the  capture  ;  the  Chronicle  gives 
April.  According  to  the  poem,  the  King's  age 
at  the  time  of  his  capture  was  about  ten ; 
according  to  the  Chronicle,  about  eleven  and  a 
half.  The  Chronicle  gives  the  year  of  the  cap- 
ture ;  the  poem  does  not.  The  Chronicle  gives 
details  not  to  be  found  in  the  poem  ;  the  poem 
details  not  to  be  found  in  the  Chronicle.  Mr. 
Brown  has  no  authority  whatever  for  asserting 
that  Book  IX.  chap.  xxv.  of  the  Chronicle  was 
certainly  written  years  before  James  returned 
to  Scotland.  All  we  know  about  the  Chronicle 
is   that    it    was    finished   between   the    3rd    of 

181 


LITERARY   ICONOCLASM 

September,   1420,  and    the  return   of  James   in 
April,  1424. 

Mr.  Brown  must  forgive  us  for  expressing 
regret  that  he  should  have  wasted  so  much  time 
and  learning,  in  attempting  to  support  a  para- 
dox which  can  only  serve  to  perplex  and  mis- 
lead. Scholars,  especially  in  these  days,  would 
do  well  to  remember,  that  nothing  can  justify 
destructive  criticism  but  a  conscientious  desire, 
on  the  part  of  those  who  apply  it,  to  correct 
error  and  to  discover  truth.  And  they  would 
also  do  well  to  ponder  over  Bacon's  weighty 
words :  "  Like  as  many  substances  in  Nature 
which  are  solid  do  putrify  and  corrupt  into 
worms,  so  it  is  the  property  of  good  and  sound 
knowledge  to  putrify  and  dissolve  into  a  number 
of  subtle,  idle,  unwholesome,  and,  as  I  may 
term  them,  vermiculate  questions,  which  have 
indeed  a  kind  of  quickness  and  life  of  spirit,  but 
no  soundness  of  matter  nor  goodness  of  sub- 
stance." 


182 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR^ 

BOSWELL  tells  us  that  he  once  offered  to 
teach  Dr.  Johnson  the  Scotch  dialect,  that 
the  sage  might  enjoy  the  beauties  of  a  certain 
Scotch  pastoral  poem,  and  received  for  his  reply, 
"  No,  sir ;  I  will  not  learn  it.  You  shall  retain 
your  superiority  by  my  not  knowing  it."  It 
would  not  be  true  to  say  that  Dr.  Johnson's 
indifference  to  the  Scotch  language  and  to 
Scotch  poetry  has  been  shared  by  all  cultivated 
Englishmen,  but  it  has  certainly  been  shared  by 
a  very  large  majority  in  every  generation.  The 
superb  merit  of  many  of  the  Scotch  ballads,  the 
lyrics  of  Burns  and  the  novels  of  Scott  have 
practically  done  little  to  diminish  this  majority 
and  to  induce  English  readers  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  which  Dr.  Johnson  disdained.  Nine 
Englishmen  out  of  ten  read  Burns,  either  with 
an  eye  uneasily  fishing  the  glossary  at  the  bottom 
of  the  page,  or  ad  sensum,  that  is,  in  contented 
ignorance  of  about  three  words  in  every  nine. 

'  William  Dunbar.    By  Oliphant  Smeaton.     Edinburgh  : 
Oliphant. 

183 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

And  this  is,  perhaps,  all  that  can  reasonably  be 
expected  of  the  Southerner.  Life  is  short ;  the 
world  of  Scotch  drink,  Scotch  religion  and 
Scotch  manners  is  not,  as  Matthew  Arnold  ob- 
served, a  lovely  one,  and  the  time  which  such 
an  accomplishment  would  require  would  be  far 
more  profitably  spent  in  acquiring,  say,  the 
language  of  Dante  and  Ariosto,  or  even  the 
language  of  the  Romancero  General  and  of  Cer- 
vantes. A  modern  reader  may  stumble,  with 
more  or  less  intelligence,  through  a  poem  of 
Burns,  catching  the  general  sense,  enjoying 
the  lilt,  and  even  appreciating  the  niceties  of 
rhythm.  But  this  is  not  the  case  with  the  Scotch 
of  the  fifteenth  century — the  golden  age  of  the 
vernacular  poetry,  the  age  when  poets  were 
writing  thus : — 

"  Catyvis,  wrechis,  and  ockeraris, 
Hud-pykis,  hurdaris,  and  gadderaris, 

All  with  that  warlo  went ; 
Out  of  thair  throttis  thay  schot  on  ixdder 
Hett  moltin  gold,  me  thocht,  a  fudder 

As  fyre-flawcht,  maist  fervent, 
Ay  as  thay  tumit  them  of  schot, 
Feyndis  fild  thame  new  up  to  the  thrott 
With  gold  of  allkin  prent." 

The  usual  consequences  have  been  the  result 
of  this  ignorance.  The  Scotch  have  had  it  all 
their  own  way  in  estimating  the  merits  of 
their  vernacular  classics,  and  the  few  outsiders 
whether  English  or  German,  who  have  made 
the   Scotch   language   and    literature   a   special 

184 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

subject  of  study,  have  very  naturally  not  been 
willing  to  underestimate  the  value  of  what  it 
has  cost  them  labour  to  acquire,  and  so  have 
supported  the  exaggerated  estimates  of  the 
Scotch  themselves.  What  Voltaire  so  absurdly 
said  of  Dante,  that  his  reputation  was  safe  be- 
cause no  intelligent  people  read  him,  is  literally 
true  of  such  poets  as  Henryson,  Douglas,  and 
Dunbar.  We  simply  take  them  on  trust,  and, 
as  with  most  other  things  which  are  taken  on 
trust,  we  seldom  trouble  ourselves  about  the 
titles  and  guarantees.  It  may  be  accepted  as 
an  uncontrolled  truth  that  the  world  is  al- 
ways right,  and  very  exactly  right,  in  the  long 
run.  That  mysterious  tribunal  which,  resolved 
into  the  individuals  which  compose  it,  seems 
resolved  into  every  conceivable  source  of  ignor- 
ance, error,  and  folly,  is  ultimately  infallible. 
There  are  no  mismeasurements  in  the  reputa- 
tion of  authors  with  whom  readers  of  every 
class  have  been  familiar  for  a  hundred  years. 
But,  in  the  case  of  minor  writers  who  appeal 
only  to  a  minority,  critical  literature  is  the 
record  of  the  most  preposterous  estimates.  The 
history  of  the  building  up  of  these  pseudo- 
reputations  is  generally  the  same  in  all  cases. 
First  we  have  the  obiter  dictum  of  some  famous 
man  whose  opinion  naturally  carries  authority, 
uttered,  it  may  be,  carelessly  in  conversation, 
or  committed,  without  deliberation,  to  paper,  in 
a  letter  or  occasional  trifle.     Then  comes  some 

185 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

little  man,  who  takes  up  in  deadly  seriousness 
what  the  great  man  has  said,  and  out  comes, 
it  may  be,  an  essay  or  article.  This  wakes 
up  some  dreary  pedant,  who  follows  with  an 
"edition"  or  "Study,"  which  naturally  elicits 
from  some  kindred  spirit  a  sympathetic  review. 
Thus  the  ball  is  set  rolling,  or,  to  change  the 
figure,  bray  swells  bray,  echo  answers  to  echo, 
and  the  thing  is  done.  Meanwhile,  all  that  is 
of  real  interest  and  importance  in  the  author 
thus  resuscitated  is  lost  sight  of ;  in  advocating 
his  factitious  claims  to  attention  his  real  claims 
are  ignored.  For  the  true  point  of  view  is 
substituted  a  false,  and  the  whole  focus  of 
criticism,  so  to  speak,  is  deranged.  The  first 
requisite  in  estimating  the  work  and  relative 
position  of  a  particular  author  is  the  last  thing 
which  these  enthusiasts  seem  to  consider,  that 
is,  the  application  of  standards  and  touchstones 
derived  not  simply  from  the  study  of  the  author 
himself,  but  from  acquaintance  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  criticism,  and  with  what  is  excellent 
in  universal  literature. 

All  this  has  been  illustrated  in  the  case  of  the 
poet  who  is  the  subject  of  the  volume  before 
us.  As  Mr.  Ruskin  has  pronounced  Aurora 
Leigh  to  be  the  greatest  poem  of  this  century, 
so  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  has,  by  the  way, 
been  singularly  unjust  to  Lydgate  and  Hawes, 
pronounced  Dunbar  to  be  "a  poet  unrivalled 
by   any   that   Scotland   has   ever    produced."   a 

186 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

reckless  judgment  which  he  could  never  have 
expressed  deliberately.  Ellis  followed  suit,  and 
in  Ellis'  notice  Dunbar  is  "  the  greatest  poet 
Scotland  has  produced."  These  judgments  have, 
in  effect,  been  reverberated  by  successive  writers 
and  editors.  In  due  time,  some  fourteen  years 
ago,  appeared  the  inevitable  German  mono- 
graph, "  William  Dunbar  :  sein  Leben  und  seine 
Gedichte,"  by  Dr.  J.  Schipper,  to  whom  Mr. 
Oliphant  Smeaton  appropriately  and  reverently 
inscribes  the  present  monograph. 

In  Mr.  Oliphant  Smeaton's  work  Dunbar 
assumes  the  proportions  which  might  be  ex- 
pected— he  is  a  "  mighty  genius."  "  The  peer, 
if  not  in  a  few  qualities,  the  superior  of  Chaucer 
and  Spenser.  By  the  indefeasible  passport 
of  the  supreme  genius  he  has  an  indisputable 
title  to  the  apostolic  succession  of  British  poetry 
to  that  place  between  Chaucer  and  Spenser, 
that  place  which  can  only  be  claimed  by  one 
whoso  genius  was  co-ordinate  with  theirs."  As 
probably  eight  out  of  every  ten  of  Mr.  Smeaton's 
readers  will  know  nothing  more  of  Dunbar  than 
what  Mr.  Smeaton  chooses  to  tell  them,  and  as 
we,  considering  the  space  at  our  disposal,  can- 
not refute  him  by  a  detailed  examination  of 
Dunbar's  works,  it  is  fortunate  that  he  has 
given  us  a  succinct  illustration  of  the  value  of 
his  critical  judgment.  The  following  are  four 
typical  stanzas  of  a  poem  which  Mr.  Smeaton 
ranks    with     Milton's     Lycidas     and     Shelley's 

187 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

Adonais  ;   we  give  them  as  Mr.  Smeaton  gives 
them,  modernised  : — 

"I  that  in  health  was  and  gladness 
Am  troubled  now  with  great  sickness. 
Enfeebled  with  infirmity, 

Timor  mortis  conturhat  me. 

*'  Our  pleasure  here  is  all  vain  glory, 
This  false  world  is  but  transitory, 
The  flesh  is  brittle,  the  fiend  is  slee, 

Timor  m,ortis  conturhat  me. 

"  The  state  of  man  doth  change  and  vary, 
Now  sound,  now  sick,  now  blyth,  now  sary 
Now  dancing  merry,  now  like  to  dee, 

Timor  mortis  conturhat  me. 

"  No  state  on  earth  here  stands  sicker. 
As  with  the  wind  waves  the  wicker, 
So  waves  this  world's  vanity, 

Timor  mortis  conturhat  me." 

As  the  following  is  pronounced  to  be  one  of 
the  finest  stanzas  Dunbar  ever  penned,  it  is 
interesting  as  illustrating  what  is,  in  Mr.  Smea- 
ton's  opinion,  the  best  work  of  this  rival  of 
Chaucer  and  Spenser  : — 

*  Have  mercy,  love,  have  mercy,  lady  bright; 
What  have  I  wrought  against  your  womankeid. 
That  you  should  murder  me  a  sackless  wight. 
Trespassing  on  you  nor  in  word  nor  deed  ? 
That  ye  consent  thereto,  O  God  forbid ; 
Leave  cruelty  and  save  your  man  for  shame, 
Or  through  the  world  quite  losSd  is  your  name." 

It  may  be  added  that  what  are  by  far  the  finest 

188 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

passages  in  Dunbar's  poems  are  passed  unnoticed 
and  unquoted  by  Mr.  Smeaton.  Indeed,  his 
acquaintance  with  Dunbar,  or,  at  all  events,  his 
taste  in  selection,  is  exactly  on  a  par  with  that 
of  Ned  Softley's  with  Waller.  "  As  that  admir- 
able writer  has  the  best  and  worst  verses  among 
our  English  poets,  Ned,"  says  Addison,  "  has  got 
all  the  bad  ones  by  heart,  which  he  repeats 
upon  occasion  to  show  his  reading."  Should 
Mr.  Smeaton  ever  meet  his  idol  in  Hades,  we 
would  in  all  kindness  advise  him  to  avoid  an 
encounter ;  let  him  remember  that  the  fulsome 
eulogy  is  his  own,  but  that  the  verses  quoted 
are  the  poet's.  Attempted  murder — so  the  irate 
shade  might  argue — is  less  serious  than  com- 
pulsory suicide. 

Dunbar  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of  genius, 
but  a  reference  to  the  poets  who  immediately 
preceded  him  will  make  large  deductions  from 
the  praises  lavished  on  him  by  his  eulogists. 
He  struck  no  new  notes.  The  Thistle  and  the 
Rose  and  The  Golden  Terge  are  mere  echoes  of 
Chaucer  and  Lydgate,  and,  in  some  degree,  of 
the  author  of  The  King's  Quair,  and  are  indeed 
full  of  plagiarisms  from  them.  T?ie  Dance  of 
the  Seven  Deadly  Sins  is  probably  little  more 
than  a  faithful  description  of  a  popular  mum- 
mery. His  moral  and  religious  poems  had  their 
prototypes,  even  in  Scotland,  in  such  poets  as 
Johnston  and  Henryson.  His  most  remarkable 
characteristic   is    his   versatility,   which   ranges 

189 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

from  the  composition  of  such  poems  as  The 
Merle  and  the  Nightingale  to  the  Twa  Maryit 
Wemen  and  the  Wedo,  from  such  lyrics  as  the 
Meditation  in  Winter  to  such  lyrics  as  the  Plea 
for  Pity.  Mr.  Smeaton  calls  him.  "a  giant  in 
an  age  of  pigmies."  The  author  or  authoress  of 
The  Flower  and  the  Leaf  was  infinitely  superior 
to  him  in  point  of  style,  Henryson  was  infinitely 
superior  to  him  in  originality,  and  Gavin  Douglas 
at  least  his  equal  in  power  of  expression  and 
in  description. 

Let  us  do  Dunbar  the  justice  which  Mr. 
Smeaton  has  not  done  him,  and  take  him  at 
his  very  best.  Here  is  part  of  a  picture  of  a 
May  morning, — 

"  For  mirth  of  May,  wyth  skippis  and  wyth  hoppis 
The  birdis  sang  upon  the  tender  croppis, 

With  curiouse  notis,  as  Venus  Chapell  clerkis. 
The  rosis  yong,  new  spreding  of  their  knoppis. 
War  powderit  brycht  with  hevinly  beriall  droppis ; 
Throu  hemes  rede,  birnyng  as  ruby  sperkis, 
The  skyes  rang  for  schoutyng  of  the  larkis." 

This  is  brilliant  and  picturesque  rhetoric 
touched  into  poetry  by  the  "  Venus  Chapell 
clerkis,"  and  the  magical  note  in  the  last  line  ; 
so  too  the  touch  in  The  Golden  Terge,  liken- 
ing the  faery  ship  to  "  blossom  upon  the  spray." 
But  in  his  allegorical  poem  he  is  too  fond  of 
the  "  quainte  enamalit  termes,"  and  his  verse 
has  a  certain  metallic  ring.  It  will  be  admitted, 
we  suppose,  that  the  best  of  his  moral  poems 

190 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

would  be  The  Merle  and  the  Nightingale  and 
"  Be  Merrie  Man  "  ;  but  the  utmost  which  can 
be  said  for  them  is,  that  the  philosophy  is  ex- 
cellent and  its  expression  adequate ;  that  is, 
that  they  have  little  to  distinguish  them  from 
hundreds  of  other  poems  of  the  same  class. 

In  speaking  of  Dunbar's  satires,  Mr.  Smeaton 
indulges  himself  in  the  following  nonsense, 
"  From  the  genial,  jesting,  and  ironical  incon- 
gruities of  Horace  and  Persius  we  are  intro- 
duced at  once  into  the  bitter,  vitriolic  scourgings 
of  Juvenal,"  and  in  the  following  rhodomontade, 
telling  us  that  they  unite  "  the  natural  direct- 
ness of  Hall,  the  subtle  depth  of  Donne,  the 
delicate  humour  of  Breton,  the  sturdy  vigour 
of  Dryden,  the  scalding,  vitriolic  bitterness  of 
Swift,  the  pungency  of  Churchill,  the  rural 
smack  of  Gay,  united  to  an  approach  at  least 
to  the  artistic  perfection  of  Pope."  Stuff  like 
this  and  indiscriminate  eulogy  are,  no  doubt, 
much  easier  to  produce  than  an  estimate  of  a 
writer's  historical  position  and  importance.  Of 
the  relation  of  Dunbar  to  his  predecessors  and 
contemporaries  in  England  and  Scotland,  of  his 
prototypes  and  models  in  French  and  Provon<jal 
literature,  of  the  influence  which  he  undoubtedly 
exercised  on  subsequent  poetry,  and  especially 
on  Spenser,  Mr.  Smeaton  has  nothing  to  say. 
It  never  seems  to  occur  to  him  that  his  hero, 
like  every  one  else,  must  have  had  his  limita- 
tions, that  "  the  many-sidedness  of  that  genius 

191 


WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

which  has  a  ring  " — the  metaphors  are  not  ours, 
but  Mr.  Smeaton's — "  almost  Shakespearian, 
about  it,"  could  hardly  have  been  distinguished 
by  uniformity  of  excellence  ;  that  "  that  painter 
of  contemporary  manners,  who  had  all  the 
vividness  of  a  Callot,  united  to  the  broad 
humour  of  a  Teniers  and  the  minute  touch  of 
a  Meissonier,"  who  "reflected  in  his  verse  the 
most  delicate  nuances,  as  well  as  the  most 
startling  colours  of  the  age  wherein  he  lived," 
must  have  had  degrees  in  success. 

We  have  singled  out  this  volume  for  special 
notice,  not  because  of  any  intrinsic  title  it 
possesses  to  serious  attention,  but  because  it  is 
typical  of  a  species  of  literature  which  is  rapidly 
becoming  one  of  the  pests  of  our  time.  While 
every  encouragement  should  be  given  to  sober, 
judicious,  and  competent  reviews  of  our  older 
writers,  every  discouragement  should  be  given, 
out  of  respect  to  the  dead,  as  well  as  in  the 
interests  of  the  living,  to  such  books  as  the 
present.  Foi  they  are  as  mischievous  as  they 
are  ridiculous.  They  misinform  ;  they  mislead  ; 
they  corrupt,  or  tend  to  corrupt,  taste.  After 
laying  down  a  volume  like  this  we  feel,  and 
we  expect  Dunbar  would  have  felt,  that  there 
is  something  much  more  formidable  than  the 
old  horror,  "  the  candid  friend,"  even  that  in- 
dicated by  Tacitus — pessimum  inimicorum  genus 
— laudantes. 


192 


A  GALLOP  THROUGH   ENGLISH 
LITERATURE^ 

THERE  is  a  breeziness  and  hilarity,  a  gay- 
irresponsibility  and  abandon,  about  M. 
Jusserand  which  is  perfectly  delightful.  He  is 
the  very  Autolycus  of  History  and  Criticism. 
What  more  sober  students,  who  have  some  con- 
science to  trouble  them,  are  "  toiling  all  their 
lives  to  find "  appears  to  be  his  as  a  sort  of 
natural  right.  The  fertility  of  his  genius  is 
such,  that  it  seems  to  blossom  spontaneously 
into  erudition.  Like  the  lilies  he  toils  not,  but 
unlike  the  lilies  he  spins,  and  very  pretty 
gossamer  too.  It  is  impossible  to  take  him 
seriously. 

The  truth  is  that  M.  Jusserand  belongs  to  a 
class  of  writers  which,  thanks  to  indulgent 
publishers,  a  more  indulgent  public,  and  most 
indulgent  reviewers,  is  just  now  greatly  in  the 
ascendant.  "  Encyclopaedical  heads,"  who  took 
all  knowledge  for  their  province,  probably  died 

'  A  Literary  History  of  the   English  People  from  t?ie 
Origins  to  the  Renaissance.    By  J.  J.  Jusserand. 
E.C.  193  N 


A   GALLOP  THROUGH 

with  Bacon,  but  encyclopaedical  heads  who  take 
all  Literature  or  all  History  for  their  province 
appear  to  be  as  common  as  the  "  excellence " 
which,  in  opposition  to  Matthew  Arnold's  opin- 
ion, the  American  lady  maintained  was  so 
abundant  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  These 
are  the  gentlemen  who  complacently  sit  down 
"  to  edit  the  Literatures  of  the  world,"  or  "  to 
trace  the  development  of  the  human  race,  from 
its  picturesque  cradle  in  the  valleys  of  Central 
Asia,  to  its  infinite  ramifications  in  our  own 
day " — within  "  the  moderate  compass  of  an 
octavo  volume." 

M.  Jusserand's  first  feat  is  to  dispose  of  some 
six  centuries  in  ninety-three  pages,  in  a  narra- 
tive which  simply  tells  over  again,  though  cer- 
tainly after  a  more  jaunty  fashion,  what  Ten 
Brink,  Henry  Morley,  and  others  have  told  much 
more  seriously,  and,  we  may  add,  much  more 
eflFectively.  The  Norman  Conquest  and  an  ac- 
count of  the  Anglo-Norman  literature  occupy 
about  a  hundred  and  ten  pages,  while  some 
eighty  pages  more,  dealing  with  the  fusion  of 
the  races  and  the  gradual  evolution  of  the  Eng- 
lish people  and  language,  bring  us  to  Chaucer. 
It  might  have  been  expected  that  M.  Jusserand 
would  have  justified  his  survey  of  a  period  so 
often  reviewed  before,  either  by  tracing,  with 
more  fulness  and  precision  than  his  predeces- 
sors, the  successive  stages  in  the  development  of 
our  nationality  and  its  expression  in  literature, 

194 


ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

or  by  adding  to  our  knowledge  of  the  character- 
istics and  peculiarities  of  the  literature  itself. 
He  has  done  neither.  He  has,  on  the  contrary, 
obscured  the  first  by  the  constant  introduction 
of  irrelevant  matter,  and  he  has  apparently  no 
notion  of  the  relative  importance  of  the  authors 
on  whose  works  he  dilates  or  touches.  Thus 
Richard  Rolle  of  Hampole  fills  more  space  than 
Layamon,  whose  work  is  despatched  in  a  page  ! 
Thus  two  lines  in  a  note  suffice  for  the  Ormulum, 
two  lines  for  Mannyng's  Handlyng  of  Synne,  a 
singularly  interesting  and  significant  work,  ten 
lines  for  Robert  of  Gloucester,  who  is  rather 
perplexingly  described  as  "  a  distant  ancestor  of 
Gibbon  and  Macaulay,"  while  four  pages  are 
accorded  to  Tristan  and  five  to  the  Roman  du 
Renart.  How  the  Latin  Chroniclers  fare  may 
be  judged  from  the  fact  that  a  little  more  than 
a  page  serves  for  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  a  line 
for  Ordericus  Vitalis,  and  two  for  Giraldus 
Cambrensis.  In  the  chapter  on  Chaucer  M. 
Jusserand  does  more  justice  to  his  subject,  and 
it  is  to  be  regretted  for  his  own  sake  that  he 
has  not  confined  himself  to  such  essays.  He  is 
never  safe  except  when  he  is  on  the  beaten 
path.  Nothing  could  be  more  inadequate  than 
the  section  on  Gower.  It  certainly  indicates 
that  M.  Jusserand  is  not  very  familiar  with 
the  Confesaio  Amantia.  Not  one  word  is  said 
about  the  remarkable  prologue,  and  to  dismiss 
such  a  work  in  less  than  three   pages,  observing 

105 


A   GALLOP  THROUGH 

that  "  it  contains  a  hundred  and  twelve  short 
stories,  two  or  three  of  which  are  very  well 
told,  one,  the  adventure  of  Florent,  being,  per- 
haps, related  even  better  than  in  Chaucer,"  is 
not  quite  what  we  should  expect  in  a  work  pur- 
porting to  narrate  the  *'  literary  history  of  the 
English  people."  M.  Jusserand  has  not  even 
taken  the  trouble  to  keep  pace  with  modern 
investigation  in  his  subject,  but  actually  tells 
us  that  Gower's  Speculum  Meditantis  is  lost ! 
If  Gower's  writings  are  not  of  much  intrinsic 
value,  they  are  of  immense  importance  from 
an  historical  point  of  view.  John  de  Trevisa,  a 
most  important  name  in  the  history  of  English 
prose,  is  despatched  in  eight  lines  of  mere  biblio- 
graphical information,  without  a  word  being  said 
about  his  great  services  to  our  literature,  and 
without  any  reference  being  made  either  to  the 
remarkable  preface  to  his  great  work,  or  to  his 
version  of  the  Dialogue  attributed  to  Occam. 

The  only  satisfactory  chapter  in  the  book  is 
the  chapter  dealing  with  Langland  and  his 
works  ;  but  it  is  certainly  surprising  that  no 
account  should  be  given  of  the  very  remarkable 
anonymous  poem  entitled  Piers  Ploughman's 
Crede.  Again,  whole  departments  of  literature, 
such  as  the  Metrical  Romances,  the  Laies,  Fab- 
liaux, early  lyrics  and  ballads,  are  most  inade- 
quately treated,  some  of  the  most  memorable 
and  typical  being  not  even  specified.  Surely 
Minot  was  not  a  man  to  be  dismissed,  with  a 

106 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

flippant  joke,  in  half  a  page,  or  King  Horn  and 
Havelok  poems  to  be  relegated  to  passing  refer- 
ence in  a  note. 

But  it  is  in  dealing  with  the  literature  of  the 
fifteenth  century  that  M.  Jusserand's  superfici- 
ality and,  to  put  it  plainly,  incompetence  for  his 
ambitious  task  become  most  deplorably  appar- 
ent. In  treating  the  earlier  periods  ho  had 
trustworthy  guides  even  in  common  manuals, 
and  he  could  not  go  far  wrong  in  accepting 
their  generalizations  and  statements.  Books 
easily  attainable,  and  indeed  in  everybody's 
hands,  could  enable  him  to  dance  airily  through 
the  Anglo-Saxon  literature  and  through  the 
period  between  Layamon  and  Chaucer.  No 
one  can  now  very  well  go  wrong  in  Chaucer 
and  his  contemporaries,  who  has  at  his  side 
some  half-dozen  works  which  any  library  can 
supply.  But  it  is  otherwise  with  the  literature 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  Here,  as  every  one 
who  happens  to  have  paid  particular  attention 
to  it  knows,  popular  manuals  and  histories  are 
most  misleading  guides.  Deterred,  no  doubt, 
by  the  prolixity  of  the  poetry  and  by  the  com- 
paratively uninteresting  nature  of  the  prose 
literature,  modem  historians  and  critics  have 
contented  themselves  with  accepting  the  ver- 
dicts of  Warton  and  his  followers,  who  prob- 
ably had  as  little  patience  as  themselves  ;  and 
80  a  kind  of  conventional  estimate  has  been 
formed,  which  appears  and  reappears  in  every 

197 


A   GALLOP  THROUGH 

manual  and  handbook.  We  turned,  therefore, 
with  much  curiosity  to  this  portion  of  M.  Jus- 
serand's  work.  We  had,  we  own,  our  suspicions 
about  his  first-hand  knowledge  of  the  literature 
through  which  he  glided  so  easily  in  the  earlier 
portions  of  his  book,  and  here,  we  thought, 
would  be  the  crucial  test  of  his  pretension  to 
original  scholarship.  Would  he  do  voluminous 
Lydgate  the  justice  which,  as  the  specialist 
knows,  has  so  long  been  withheld  from  him? 
Would  he  point  out  the  strong  human  interest 
of  Hoccleve  ;  the  great  historical  interest  of 
Hardyng  ;  the  power  and  beauty  of  the  ballads  ; 
or,  if  he  included  Hawes  within  the  century, 
would  he  show  what  a  singularly  interesting 
poem,  intrinsically  and  historically,  the  Pastime 
of  Pleasure  really  is  ?  If,  again,  he  included 
the  Scotch  poets,  how  would  he  deal  with  the 
problems  presented  by  Huchown?  Would  he 
accord  the  proper  tribute  to  the  genius  of  Dun- 
bar ;  would  he  estimate  what  poetry  owes  re- 
spectively to  James  I.,  Henry  the  Minstrel, 
Robert  Henryson,  and  Gavin  Douglas  ?  In  our 
prose  literature,  would  he  comment  on  the  great 
importance  of  Pecock's  memorable  work,  of 
Fortescue's  two  treatises,  of  the  Paston  Letters, 
of  Caxton's  various  publications  ?  How  would 
he  deal  with  the  one  "  classical "  work  of  the 
century,  Malory's  Morte  d' Arthur? 

Now,    of     Lydgate,    *'  to     enumerate    whose 
pieces,"  says  Warton,    "would  be  to  write  the 

198 


ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

catalogue  of  a  little  library,"  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  he  was  one  of  the  most  richly  gifted 
of  our  old  poets,  that  as  a  descriptive  poet  he 
stands  almost  on  the  level  of  Chaucer,  that  his 
pictures  of  Nature  are  among  the  gems  of  their 
kind,  that  his  pathos  is  often  exquisite,  "  touch- 
ing," as  Gray  said  of  him,  *'  the  very  heart- 
strings of  compassion  with  so  masterly  a  hand 
as  to  merit  a  place  among  the  greatest  of 
poets."  His  humour  is  often  delightful,  and  his 
pictures  of  contemporary  life,  such  as  his  London 
Lickpenny  and  his  Prologue  to  the  Storie  of 
Thebes,  are  as  vivid  as  Chaucer's.  In  versatility 
he  has  no  rival  among  his  predecessors  and 
contemporaries.  Gray  notices  that,  at  times, 
he  approaches  sublimity.  His  style  often  is 
beautiful, — fluent,  copious,  and  at  its  best  emi- 
nently musical.  The  influence  which  he  ex- 
ercised on  subsequent  English  and  Scotch 
literature  would  alone  entitle  him  to  a  promi- 
nent position  in  any  history  of  English  poetry. 
But  the  handbooks  think  otherwise,  and  he 
occupies  just  three  pages  in  M.  Jusserand's 
work,  the  only  estimate  of  his  work  being 
confined  to  the  assertion  that  *'  he  was  a  worthy 
man  if  ever  there  was  one,  industrious  and 
prolific,"  etc.,  and  the  only  criticism  is  the  re- 
mark that  his  *•  prosody  was  rather  lax."  And 
this  is  how  poor  Lydgate  fares  at  our  his- 
torian's hands.  To  Hoccleve  are  assigned  just 
one  page  and  a  few  lines.     Hardyng  figures  only 

199 


A   GALLOP  THROUGH 

in  the  bibliography  at  the  bottom  of  a  page. 
The  ballads  are  despatched  in  fifteen  lines. 
Hawes'  Pastime  of  Pleasure^  memorable  alike 
both  for  the  preciseness  with  which  it  marks  the 
transition  from  the  poetry  of  medisevalism  to 
that  of  the  Renaissance,  for  its  probable  influ- 
ence on  Spenser,  and  for  its  intrinsic  charm,  its 
pathos,  its  picturesqueness,  and  its  sweet  and 
plaintive  music,  is  curtly  dismissed,  as  the  hand- 
books dismiss  it,  as  "an  allegory  of  unendurable 
dulness."  If  M.  Jusserand  would  throw  aside 
the  manuals  and  turn  to  the  original,  he  would 
probably  see  reason  to  modify  his  verdict.  Our 
author's  breathless  gallop  through  the  Scotch 
poets,  to  whom  he  allots  nine  pages,  can  only 
be  regarded  with  silent  astonishment  by  readers 
who  happen  to  known  anything  about  those 
most  remarkable  men.  Huchown  is  not  so 
much  as  mentioned.  The  amazing  nonsense 
which  he  writes  in  summing  up  Dunbar,  we 
will  transcribe,  ut  ex  uno  discas  omnia : 

"  Dunbar,  with  never-flagging  spirit,  attempts  every  style. 
.  .  .  His  flowers  are  too  flowery,  his  odours  too  fragrant ; 
by  moments  it  is  no  longer  a  delight,  but  almost  a  pain.  It 
is  not  sufficient  that  his  birds  should  sing ;  they  must  sing 
among  perfumes,  and  these  perfumes  are  coloured." 

Has  M.  Jusserand  ever  read  The  Dance  of  the 
Seven  Deadly  Sins,  The  Twa  Maryit  Wernen  and 
the  Wedo,  and  the  minor  poems  of  Dunbar  ?  If 
he  has,  would  he  pronounce  that  these  "flowers" 
are   "too   flowery" — these  "odours"  "too   fra- 

200 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 

grant,"  or  would  he  feel  the  absurdity  of  general- 
izing on  ludicrously  insuJBficient  knowledge?  His 
verdicts  on  the  other  Scotch  poets  are  marked 
by  the  same  superficiality,  and  we  regret  to  add 
flippancy.  To  class  Henryson  among  poets 
whose  style  is  "florid"  and  whose  roses  are 
"  splendid  but  too  full-blown "  is  to  show  that 
M.  Jusserand  knows  as  little  about  him  as  he 
seems  to  know  about  Dunbar.  In  all  Henry- 
son's  poems  there  are  only  three  short  passages 
which  could  by  any  possibility  be  described  as 
florid.  The  prose  of  the  fifteenth  century  fares 
even  worse  at  his  hands.  Capgrave  is  men- 
tioned only  in  the  bibliography  !  Of  the  in- 
terest and  importance  of  Pecock,  historically 
and  intrinsically,  he  appears  to  have  no  concep- 
tion ;  on  the  real  significance  of  the  Repressor 
he  never  even  touches,  and  how  indeed  could 
he  in  the  less  than  one  page  which  is  assigned 
to  one  of  the  most  remarkable  writers  in  the 
fifteenth  century  ?  A  page  suffices  for  the  Pas- 
ton  Letters,  and  four  lines  for  Malory's  Morte 
d^ Arthur  I 

Now  we  would  ask  M.  Jusserand,  in  all  serious- 
ness, what  possible  end  can  be  served  by  a  book 
of  this  kind,  except  the  encouragement  of  every- 
thing that  is  detestable  to  the  real  scholar : 
superficiality,  want  of  thoroughness,  and  false 
assumption,  and  what  is  more,  the  public  dis- 
semination of  error,  and  of  crude  and  misleading 
judgments.     Such  a  work   as   the  present,   the 

201 


ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

soundness  and  trustworthiness  of  which  ninety- 
nine  readers  in  every  hundred  must  necessarily 
take  for  granted,  can  only  be  justified  when  it 
proceeds  from  one  who  is  a  master  of  his  im- 
mense subject,  from  one  whose  generalizations 
are  based  on  amply  sufficient  knowledge,  whose 
suppressions  and  omissions  spring  neither  from 
carelessness  nor  from  ignorance,  but  from  dis- 
crimination, and  in  whose  statements  and  judg- 
ments implicit  reliance  can  be  placed.  To  none 
of  these  qualifications  has  M.  Jusserand  the 
smallest  pretension. 

We  have  no  wish  to  seem  discourteous  to  M. 
Jusserand  or  to  say  anything  which  can  cause 
him  annoyance,  but  it  is  no  more  than  simple 
duty  in  any  critic  with  a  becoming  sense  of 
responsibility  to  discountenance  in  every  way 
the  production  of  such  books  as  these.  They 
are  not  only  mischievous  in  themselves,  but  they 
form  precedents  for  books  which  are  more  mis- 
chievous still.  We  like  M.  Jusserand's  enthu- 
siasm, but  we  would  exhort  him  to  reduce  the 
flatulent  dimensions,  which  his  ambition  has 
here  so  unhappily  assumed,  to  that  more  tem- 
pered ambition  which  gave  us  the  monographs 
on  Piers  Ploughman  and  on  the  Tudor  novelists. 


202 


DE  QUINCEY  AND  HIS  FRIENDS ' 

TO  a  thoughtful  reader  there  is,  perhaps, 
no  sadder  spectacle  than  those  sixteen 
volumes  which  represent  all  that  remains  to 
us  of  Thomas  De  Quincey.  What  superb 
powers,  what  noble  and  manifold  gifts,  what 
capacity  for  invaluable  and  imperishable  achieve- 
ments had  Nature  lavished  on  this  extraordin- 
ary man !  Metaphysics  might  for  all  time 
have  been  a  debtor  to  that  vigorous,  acute, 
and  subtle  intellect,  at  once  so  speculative  and 
logical,  so  inquisitive  and  discriminating.  jEs- 
thetic  criticism  might  have  found  in  him  a 
second  Lessing,  and  literary  criticism  a  superior 
Sainte-Beuve.  For,  in  addition  to  all  that  would 
have  enabled  him  to  excel  in  abstract  thought, 
he  had — and  in  ample  measure — the  qualities 
which  make  men  consummate  critics  :  rare  power 
of   analysis,    the   nicest    perception,    sensibility, 

*  Personal  Recollections,  Souvenirs,  and  Anecdotes  of 
Thomas  De  Quincey  and  his  Friends  and  Associates. 
Written  and  collected  by  James  Hogg. 

203 


DE   QUINCEY  AND   HIS  FRIENDS 

sympathy,  good  taste,  good  sense,  immense 
erudition.  He  might  have  contributed  master- 
pieces to  Theology,  to  History,  to  Economic 
Science.  But  they  know  not  his  name.  He  has 
set  his  seal  on  nothing  but  on  English  style. 
About  a  hundred  and  fifty  articles  contributed 
to  magazines  and  encyclopaedias,  some  of  them 
of  a  high  order  of  literary  merit,  many  of  them 
simply  worthless,  the  majority  of  them  contain- 
ing what  is  inferior  so  disproportionately  in 
excess  of  what  is  valuable  that  they  may  be 
likened  to  dustbins,  with  jewels  here  and  there 
glittering  among  the  rubbish  ; — this  is  what  re- 
presents him.  It  is  as  a  master  of  style,  by  virtue 
of  what  he  accomplished  as  a  rhetorician  and 
prose  poet  only,  that  he  will  live.  But  this,  com- 
paratively scanty  as  it  is,  is  of  pre-eminent,  of 
unique  value,  and  will  suffice  to  secure  him  a 
place  for  ever  among  the  classics  of  English  prose. 
He  has  also  another  claim,  if  not  to  our  rever- 
ence, at  least  to  our  curious  attention  and  in- 
terest,— and  that  attention  and  interest  he  can 
scarcely  fail  to  excite  in  every  generation, — his 
autobiographical  writings  give  us  a  picture,  and 
that  with  fascinating  power,  of  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  personalities  on  record. 

Indiscriminating  admiration  is  among  the  most 
pleasing  traits  of  youth,  but  in  men  of  mature 
years  it  loses  its  attractiveness.  When  it  is  no 
longer  the  effervescence  of  juvenile  enthusiasm 
for  which  all  make  allowance,  it  becomes,  like 

204 


DE   QUINCEY  AND   HIS   FRIENDS 

the  levities  of  boyhood  affected  in  middle  life, 
merely  vapid  folly.  In  relation  to  its  object  it 
not  only  defeats  its  own  ends,  but  is  apt  to  make 
recipient  and  donor  alike  ridiculous.  Nor  is  this 
all.  By  some  curious  law  of  association  which 
we  cannot  pretend  to  explain,  its  almost  inevit- 
able ally  is  dulness,  and  dulness  of  a  peculiarly 
wearisome  and  exasperating  kind.  During  the 
last  few  years  those  peculiarities  have  become  so 
alarmingly  epidemic  that  it  really  seems  high 
time  to  form,  on  the  principle  of  Mr.  Morris's 
Society  for  the  Preservation  of  Ancient  Monu- 
ments, a  Society  for  the  Preservation  of  Literary 
Reputations.  When  those  "  of  whom  to  be  dis- 
praised were  no  small  praise  "  take  to  eulogy  and 
editing,  an  unhappy  Classic  may  well  look  to  his 
true  friends.  It  is  nothing  less  than  appalling  to 
behold  the  mountains  of  rubbish  now  gradually 
accumulating  over  the  work — the  real  work — of 
such  poets  as  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  and  Keats  ; 
rubbish  of  their  own,  rescued  with  cruel  industry 
from  the  oblivion  to  which  they  would  them- 
selves have  consigned  it,  rubbish  of  their  com- 
mentators and  editors,  dulness  and  inanity  un- 
utterable. "  What,  sir,"  asked  an  Eton  boy  of 
Foote,  "  was  the  best  thing  you  ever  said  ? " 
"  Well,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  once  saw  a  chimney- 
sweep on  a  high  prancing,  high-mettled  horse. 
'There,'  said  I,  'goes  Warburton  on  Shakespeare." 
But  it  is  not  in  the  Warburtons,  not  in  the 
chimney-sweepers,  that  the  mischief  lies  ;  it  is  in 

205 


DE   QUINCEY   AND   HIS   FRIENDS 

those  who  may  be  called  the  scavengers  and 
sextons  of  literature,  in  those  who,  utterly  un- 
able to  discern  between  what  is  precious  and 
what  is  worthless  in  a  man's  work,  thrust  all, 
without  distinction,  into  prominence,  and  thus 
not  only  enable  an  author  to  "  write  himself 
down,"  but,  by  their  indiscriminating  eulogies, 
assist  him  in  his  suicide.  The  subtlest  form, 
indeed,  which  detraction  can  assume  is  over- 
praise, for  a  man  is  thus  forced  to  give  the  lie  to 
his  own  reputation. 

No  one,  perhaps,  has  suffered  so  much  from 
ill-judging  admirers  as  De  Quincey.  If  ever  an 
author  needed  a  judicious  adviser,  when  prepar- 
ing his  works  for  publication  in  a  permanent 
form,  and  a  judicious  editor,  when  the  time  had 
come  for  that  final  edition  on  which  his  title  to 
future  fame  should  rest,  it  was  the  English 
opium-eater.  But,  unhappily,  he  had  no  such 
adviser  in  his  lifetime,  and  he  has  had  no  such 
editor  since.  He  consequently  reprinted  much 
which  ought  never  to  have  been  reprinted  at  all, 
and  he  omitted  to  reprint  some  things  which 
would  have  done  honour  to  him.  His  besetting 
faults,  even  in  his  vigour,  were  loquacity  and 
silliness,  a  habit  of  "  drawing  out  the  thread  of 
his  verbosity  finer  than  the  staple  of  his  argu- 
ment"— a  tendency  to  peddle  and  dawdle,  as  well 
as  to  indulge  in  a  sort  of  pleasantry,  so  attenu- 
ated as  to  border  closely  on  inanity.  As  he 
grew  older  these  habits  became  more  confirmed. 

206 


DE  QUINCEY  AND   HIS  FRIENDS 

His  puerility  and  garrulousness  in  his  later  writ- 
ings are  often  intolerable.  But  this  was  not  the 
worst.  In  revising  some  of  his  earlier  papers, 
and  particularly  the  Confessions^  he  not  only 
imported  into  them  tiresome  irrelevancies  and 
superfluities,  but,  in  emending,  ruined  the  glori- 
ous passages  on  which  his  fame  as  a  rhetorician 
and  prose  poet  rests  ;  such  has  been  the  fate, 
among  others,  of  the  exquisite  description  of  the 
powers  of  opium, — the  superb  passage  beginning, 
"  The  town  of  L  .  .  represented  the  earth  with 
its  sorrows  and  its  graves,"  ^  and  of  the  dreams  in 
the  second  part  of  the  Confessions^  particularly 
of  the  sublime  one  beginning,  *'  The  dream  com- 
menced with  a  music."  ' 

Mr.  James  Hogg  tells  us  that  his  design  in 
publishing  the  present  volume  was  that  he 
might  "place  a  stone  upon  the  cairn  of  the 
man "  who  had  treated  him  "  with  an  almost 
paternal  tenderness."  We  sincerely  sympathize 
with  Mr.  Hogg's  pious  intention,  but  we  submit 
that  the  truest  kindness  which  he,  or  any  other 
admirer  of  De  Quincey  could  do  him,  would  be 
not  to  augment  but  to  lighten  the  cairn  which 
indiscreet  admirers  are  so  industriously  piling 
over  him.  To  change  the  figure,  the  best  service 
which  could  be  rendered  to  De  Quincey  would 
be  to  relieve  him  of  his  superfluous  baggage,  not 

'  See  Works.  Black's  Edit.,  Vol.  I.  p.  212,  compared  with 
original  Edit.,  pp.  113-114. 

»  Id.,  p.  272  and  original  Edit.,  pp.  177-17a 

207 


DE   QUINCEY   AND   HIS   FRIENDS 

to  add  to  it.  His  fame  would  stand  much  higher, 
if  his  sixteen  volumes  were  vigorously  weeded  ; 
if  the  sweepings  and  refuse  of  his  study,  so  in- 
judiciously given  to  the  world  by  Dr.  Japp  and 
Mr.  Hogg,  were  given  instead  to  the  flames ;  and 
if  reminiscents  and  biographers  would  only  leave 
him  to  tell,  in  his  own  fashion,  his  own  story, 
especially  as  it  is  one  of  those  stories  the  interest 
of  which  depends  purely  on  the  telling.  We 
have  already  expressed  our  sympathy  with  Mr. 
Hogg's  pious  intention.  It  only  remains  for  us 
to  express  our  regret  that  Mr.  Hogg's  piety 
should  have  taken  the  form  of  the  most  bare- 
faced piece  of  book-making  which  we  ever  re- 
member to  have  met  with.  Addison,  if  we  are 
not  mistaken,  somewhere  describes  a  man  to 
whom  a  single  volume  afforded  all  the  amuse- 
ment and  variety  of  a  whole  library,  for,  by  the 
time  he  had  arrived  at  the  middle,  he  had  com- 
pletely forgotten  the  beginning,  and  when  he 
arrived  at  the  end,  he  had  completely  forgotten 
the  whole.  Mr.  Hogg  appears  to  proceed  on  the 
assumption  that  it  is  pretty  much  the  same  with 
the  public  and  its  memory,  that  its  capacity  for 
amusement  is  permanent,  but  that  its  recollec- 
tion of  what  has  amused  it  is  so  treacherous,  that 
repetition  will  be  sure  to  have  all  the  attraction 
of  novelty.  This  is,  no  doubt,  unhappily  true. 
But  it  is  a  truth  which  no  critic  has  a  right  to 
concede. 

All  that  is  of  interest  in  this  volume  is  little 
208 


DE  QUINCEY  AND   HIS   FRIENDS 

more  than  the  literal  reproduction,  in  another 
shape,  of  material  embodied  in  a  Life  of  De 
Quincey,  published  by  Dr.  Alexander  Japp,  under 
the  pseudonym  of  H.  A.  Page,  in  1877.  Its  exact 
composition  is  as  follows.  Eliminating  the  pre- 
face and  the  index,  the  book  consists  of  359 
pages.  Of  these,  seventy  consist  of  a  dreary 
r6chauff4  by  Dr.  Japp  himself  of  his  own  Life  of 
De  Quincey,  and  of  the  additional  information 
contained  in  his  edition  of  the  Posthumous 
Works.  Next  comes  a  series  of  reminiscences, 
extracted  from  Dr.  Japp's  Life,  from  Dr.  Gar- 
nett's  edition  of  the  Confessions,  from  the  Qtuir- 
terly  Review,  and  from  other  sources  all  equally 
accessible.  Then  Mr.  Hogg  himself  opens  fire 
with  Days  and  Nights  toith  De  Quincey.  An 
essay — "  On  the  supposed  Scriptural  Expression 
for  Eternity  " — excellently  illustrating  De  Quin- 
cey in  his  senility,  is  reprinted,  with  awe-struck 
admiration,  from  the  American  edition  of  his 
works. 

For  the  purpose,  presumably,  of  adding  to  the 
bulk  of  the  book,  Moir's  ballad,  De  Quincey's 
Revenge,  is  included,  though  its  sole  connec- 
tion with  De  Quincey  is,  that  it  deals  with  a 
legend  concerning  the  possible  ancestors  of  a 
possible  branch  of  his  possible  family.  Then  we 
have  one  of  Mr.  Shadworth  Hodgson  LL.D.'s 
Outcast  Essays,  "  On  the  genius  of  De  Quincey," 
the  reason  for  the  hospitable  entertainment  of 
the  outcast  being  by  no  means  apparent.    Among 

B.a  209  o 


DE   QUINCEY   AND   HIS  FRIENDS 

other  dreary  trifles  is  a  reprint  of  a  Latin  theme, 
one  of  De  Quincey's  college  exercises.  As  Mr. 
Hogg  has  chosen  to  reprint  and  translate  this,  it 
would  have  been  as  well  to  print  and  translate 
it  correctly.  "  Quae  ansibus  obstant"  should,  of 
course,  have  been  "  ausibus,"  and  "  oculi  per- 
stringuntur "  cannot  possibly  mean  "  are  spell 
bound,"  but  "  are  dazzled." 

The  republication  of  these  pieces  was,  we 
repeat,  a  great  mistake,  another  lamentable  il- 
lustration of  the  cruel  wrong  which  officious 
and  ill-judging  admirers  may  inflict  on  a  writer's 
reputation.  Talleyrand  once  observed  that,  a 
wise  man  would  be  safer  with  a  foolish  than 
with  a  clever  wife,  for  a  foolish  wife  could 
only  compromise  herself,  but  a  clever  wife 
might  compromise  her  husband.  Substituting 
'  unambitious  '  for  *  foolish '  and  •  ambitious '  for 
'  clever,'  we  are  very  much  inclined  to  apply 
the  same  remark  to  a  great  writer  and  his 
friends.  It  requires  a  Johnson  to  support  a 
Boswell,  and  a  Goethe  to  support  an  Eckermann. 


210 


LEE'S  LIFE   OF  SHAKESPEARE' 

IT  is  a  pleasure  to  turn  from  the  slovenly  and 
perfunctory  work,  from  the  plausible  charla- 
tanry and  pretentious  incompetence  which  it  has 
so  often  been  our  unwelcome  duty  to  expose  in 
these  columns,  to  such  a  volume  as  the  volume 
before  us.  It  is  books  like  these  which  retrieve 
the  honour  of  English  scholarship.  A  wide 
range  of  general  knowledge,  immense  special 
knowledge,  scrupulous  accuracy,  both  in  the 
investigation  and  presentation  of  facts,  the 
sound  judgment,  the  tact,  the  insight  which  in 
labyrinths  of  chaotic  traditions  and  conflicting 
testimony  can  discern  the  clue  to  probability  and 
truth — these  are  the  qualifications  indispensable 
to  a  successful  biographer  of  Shakespeare.  And 
these  are  the  qualifications  which  Mr.  Lee  pos- 
sesses, in  larger  measure  than  have  been  pos- 
sessed by  any  one  who  has  essayed  the  task 
which  he  has  here  undertaken.  A  ranker  and 
more  tangled  jungle  than  that  presented  by  the 
traditions,  the  apocrypha,  the  theories,  the  con- 
jectures   which    have     gradually     accumulated 

*  A  Life  of  Shakespeare.    By  Sidney  Lee. 
211 


LEE'S  LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

round  the  memory  of  Shakespeare  since  the 
time  of  Rowe,  could  scarcely  be  conceived.  In 
this  jungle  some,  like  Charles  Knight,  have 
altogether  lost  themselves  ;  others,  like  Joseph 
Hunter,  have  struck  out  vigorously  into  wrong 
tracks,  and  floundered  into  quagmires.  Halliwell 
Phillipps,  sure-footed  and  wary  though  he  was, 
certainly  had  not  the  clue  to  it.  But  Mr.  Lee, 
who  can  plainly  say  with  Comus, — 

"  1  know  eacli  lane,  and  every  alley  green 
Dingle  or  bushy  dell  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky  bourne  from  side  to  side, 
My  daily  walks  and  ancient  neighbourhood," 

has  thridded  it,  and  taught  others  to  thrid 
it,  as  no  one  else  has  done.  And  he  will 
have  his  reward.  He  has  produced  what  de- 
serves to  be,  and  what  will  probably  become, 
the  standard  life  of  our  great  national  poet. 

Mr.  Lee's  book  is  substantially  a  reproduction 
of  his  article  on  Shakespeare,  contributed  to  the 
Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  the  high 
merits  of  which  have  long  been  recognised  by 
scholars ;  and  he  has  certainly  done  well  to 
make  that  article  popularly  accessible  by  re- 
printing it  in  a  separate  form.  But  the  present 
volume  is  not  a  mere  reproduction  of  his  con- 
tribution to  the  Dictionary ;  it  is  much  more. 
He  has  here  filled  out  what  he  could  there 
sketch  only  in  outline ;  what  he  could  there 
state  only  as  results  and  conclusions,  he  here 
illustrates  and    justifies    by   corroboration   and 

212 


LEE'S  LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

proof.  He  has,  moreover,  both  in  the  text  and 
in  the  appendices,  brought  together  a  great 
mass  of  interesting  and  pertinent  collateral 
matter  which  the  scope  of  the  Dictionary  neces- 
sarily precluded. 

More  than  a  century  ago  George  Steevens 
wrote  :  "  All  that  can  be  known  with  any  degree 
of  certainty  about  Shakespeare  is  that  he  was 
born  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  married  and  had 
children  there,  went  to  London,  where  he  com- 
menced actor,  wrote  poems  and  plays,  returned 
to  Stratford,  made  his  will,  died,  and  was  buried 
there."  And,  if  we  set  aside  probable  inferences, 
this  is  all  we  do  know  of  any  importance  about 
his  life.  His  pedigree  cannot  certainly  be  traced 
beyond  his  father.  Nothing  is  known  of  the 
place  of  his  education — that  he  was  educated  at 
the  Stratford  Grammar  School  is  pure  assump- 
tion. His  life  between  his  birth  and  the  pub- 
lication of  Venus  and  Adonis  in  1593,  is  an 
absolute  blank.  It  is  at  least  doubtful  whether 
the  supposed  allusion  to  him  in  Greene's  Cfroafa 
Worth  of  Wit,  and  in  Chettle's  Kind  Heart's 
Dream  have  any  reference  to  him  at  all ;  it  is 
still  more  doubtful  whether  the  William  Shake- 
speare of  Adrian  Quiney's  letter,  or  of  the  Rogers 
and  Addenbroke  summonses,  or  the  William 
Shakespeare  who  was  assessed  for  property  in 
St.  Helens,  Bishopsgate,  was  the  poet.  We 
know  practically  nothing  of  his  life  in  London, 
or  of  the  date  of  his  arrival  in  London  ;  we  are 

213 


LEE'S  LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

ignorant  of  the  date  of  his  return  to  Stratford, 
of  his  happiness  or  unhappiness  in  married  life, 
of  his  habits,  of  his  last  days,  of  the  cause  of  his 
death.  Not  a  sentence  that  fell  from  his  lips 
has  been  authentically  recorded.  At  least  one- 
half  of  the  alleged  facts  of  his  biography  is  as 
purely  apocryphal  as  the  life  of  Homer  attri- 
buted to  Herodotus. 

But  probability,  as  Bishop  Butler  says,  is  the 
guide  of  life,  and  on  the  basis  of  probability 
may  be  raised,  it  must  be  owned,  a  fairly  satis- 
factory biography.  Mr.  Lee  has  not  been  able 
to  contribute  any  new  facts  to  Shakespeare's 
life,  which  is  certainly  not  his  fault ;  but  he 
has  given  us  a  recapitulation,  as  lucid  as  it  is 
exhaustive,  of  all  that  the  industry  of  successive 
generations  of  memorialists  from  Ben  Jonson 
to  Halliwell  Phillipps  has  succeeded  in  accumu- 
lating, and  he  has  been  as  judicious  in  what 
he  has  rejected  as  in  what  he  has  adopted. 
From  the  curse  of  the  typical  Shakespearian 
biographer — we  mean  the  statement  of  mere  in- 
ference and  hypothesis  as  fact — he  is  absolutely 
free.  He  has  done  excellent  service  in  giving, 
if  not  finishing,  at  least  swashing  blows  to  the 
monstrous  fictions  of  the  theorists  on  the  sonnets, 
particularly  to  the  Fitton-Pembroke  mare's  nest, 
fictions  which  have  been  gradually  generating  a 
Shakespeare,  as  purely  apocryphal  as  the  Roland 
of  the  song  or  the  ApoUonius  of  Philostratus. 

Mr.  Lee's  most  remarkable  contribution  to 
214 


LEES  LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

speculative  Shakespearian  criticism,  in  which, 
we  are  glad  to  say,  he  does  not  often  indulge,  is 
his  contention  that  the  W.  H.  of  the  dedication 
to  the  sonnets  was  William  Hall,  a  small  pirat- 
ical stationer.  It  is  never  wise  to  speak  posi- 
tively on  what  must  necessarily  be,  till  certain 
evidence  is  obtainable,  a  matter  of  speculation. 
But  we  are  very  much  inclined  to  think  that  Mr. 
Lee's  contention  has  at  least  something  in  its 
favour.  Our  readers  will  remember  that  one  of 
the  chief  points  in  the  enigma  of  the  sonnets  is 
the  dedication,  and  it  runs  thus  :  "To  the  onlie 
begetter  of  these  ensuing  Sonnets,  Mr.  W.  H.,  all 
happiness  and  that  etemitie  promised  by  our 
ever-living  poet  wisheth  the  well-wishing  adven- 
turer in  setting  forth.  T.  T."  It  has  generally 
been  assumed  that  the  "W.  H."  is  the  youth  who 
is  the  hero  of  the  first  group  of  sonnets,  and  the 
poet's  friend,  and  he  has  commonly  been  identi- 
fied either  vsdth  William  Herbert,  third  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  or  with  Henry  Wriothesley,  third  Earl 
of  Southampton.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
either  hypothesis — and  on  each  hypothesis  not 
Babels  merely,  but  cities  of  Babels  have  been 
raised — are  to  an  unprejudiced  mind  insur- 
mountable. Mr.  Lee  maintains  with  plausible 
ingenuity,  but  not,  we  think,  conclusively,  that 
there  is  no  proof  that  the  youth  of  the  sonnets 
was  named  **  Will "  at  all.  His  analysis  of  the 
"  Will "  sonnets  is  a  masterpiece  of  subtle  in- 
genuity,  and   well   deserves    careful    attention. 

215 


LEE'S   LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

He  then  proceeds  to  adopt  the  theory  that  the 
word  "  begetter  "  is  not  to  be  taken  in  the  sense 
of  "  inspirer,"  but  simply  as  "  procurer  "  or 
"  obtainer "  of  the  sonnets  for  T.  T.,  i.e.,  the 
publisher,  Thomas  Thorpe.  In  other  words,  that 
Thorpe  dedicated  the  sonnets  to  W.  H.,  in  return 
for  W.  H.  having  piratically  obtained  them  for 
him.  This  is  at  least  doubtful.  In  the  first 
place  it  may  reasonably  be  questioned  whether 
"  begetter"  could  have  the  meaning  which  is  here 
assigned  to  it;  the  passages  quoted  from  Hamlet 
("  acquire  and  beget  a  temperance ")  and  from 
Dekker's  Satiro-mastix,  "  I  have  some  cousins 
german  at  Court  shall  beget  you  the  reversion 
of  the  Master  of  the  King's  Revels,"  are  any- 
thing but  conclusive.  Still,  Thorpe,  who  is  by  no 
means  remarkable  for  the  purity  of  his  English, 
may  have  used  it  in  the  sense  which  Mr.  Lee's 
theory   requires. 

Shakespeare's  sonnets,  as  is  well  known, 
were  circulating  among  his  friends  in  manu- 
script, and  Mr.  Lee  has  discovered  that  one 
William  Hall  was  well  known  as  an  Autolycus 
among  publishers,  and  had  already  edited,  under 
the  initials  W.  H.,  a  collection  of  poems  left 
by  the  Jesuit  poet,  Southwell — in  other  words 
had  already  done  for  the  publisher,  George  Eld, 
what  it  is  assumed  that  he  now  did  for  Thomas 
Thorpe.  Mr.  Lee's  theory  is,  it  must  be  admitted, 
plausible,  and  few  would  hesitate  to  pronounce 
it   far   more   probable    than   the   theory    which 

216 


LEES  LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

would  identify  the  enigmatical  initials  with 
the  names  of  Pembroke  or  Southampton. 

The  chapters  dealing  with  the  sonnets  are,  in 
our  opinion  the  most  valuable  contribution  which 
has  ever  been  made  to  this  important  province 
of  Shakespearian  study,  and  it  may  be  said  of 
Mr.  Lee,  as  Porson  said  of  Bentley,  that  we  may 
learn  more  from  him  when  he  is  wrong  than 
from  many  others  when  they  are  right.  His 
contention  is,  and  it  is  supported  with  exhaus- 
tive erudition,  that  these  poems  are,  in  the  main, 
a  concession  to  the  fashion,  then  so  much  in 
vogue,  of  sonnet  writing  ;  that  their  themes  are 
the  conventional  themes  treated  in  those  compo- 
sitions ;  that  some  of  them  were  dedicated  to 
Southampton,  that  some  may  be  autobiogra- 
phical, but  that  they  are  wholly  miscellaneous, 
and  tell  no  consecutive  story,  as  so  many  critics 
have  erroneously  assumed.  We  cannot  accept 
all  Mr.  Lee's  theories  and  conclusions,  but  one 
thing  is  certain,  that  they  are  supported  with 
infinitely  more  skill  and  learning  than  any  other 
theories  which  have  been  broached  on  this  hope- 
lessly baffling  problem. 

We  will  conclude  by  noticing  what  seem  to  us 
slight  blemishes  in  this  admirable  work.  There 
is  nothing  to  warrant  the  assertion  on  p.  158  that 
most  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets  were  produced  in 
1594,  which  is  to  cut  the  knot  of  a  most  difficult 
question.  Indeed,  with  respect  to  the  whole 
question  of  the  sonnets,  Mr.  Lee  is,  we  venture 

217 


LEE'S  LIFE  OF  SHAKESPEARE  * 

to  submit,  a  little  too  dogmatic.  It  is  a  question 
which  no  one  can  settle  as  positively  as  Mr.  Lee 
seems  to  settle  it.  There  is  surely  no  good,  or  even 
plausible  reason  for  doubting  the  authenticity  of 
Titus  Andronicus,  whatever  innumerable  Shake- 
spearian critics  may  say,  external  and  internal 
evidence  alike  being  almost  conclusive  for  its 
genuineness.  There  is  nothing  to  warrant  the 
supposition  that  Shakespeare  was  on  bad  terms 
with  his  wife.  The  famous  bequest  in  his  Will 
was  probably  a  delicate  compliment,  and  we  are 
surprised  that  Mr.  Lee  should  not  have  noticed 
this.  Among  the  testimonies  to  Shakespeare 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  Mr.  Lee  should 
have  recorded  that  of  Archbishop  Sharp,  who, 
according  to  Speaker  Onslow,  used  to  say  "  that 
the  Bible  and  Shakespeare  had  made  him  Arch- 
bishop of  York." 

Mr.  Lee  must  also  forgive  us  for  adding  that, 
in  this  work  at  least,  aesthetic  criticism  is  not 
his  strong  point,  and  he  would  have  done  well 
to  keep  it  within  even  narrower  bounds  than  he 
has  done.  Many  of  those  who  would  be  the  first 
to  admire  his  erudition  and  the  other  scholarly 
qualities  which  are  so  conspicuous  in  every 
chapter  of  his  book,  will,  we  fear,  take  exception 
to  much  of  his  criticism,  especially  in  relation  to 
the  sonnets.  It  is  too  positive ;  it  is  unsympa- 
thetic ;  it  is  too  mechanical.  But  our  debt  to  Mr. 
Lee  is  so  great,  that  we  feel  almost  ashamed  to 
make  any  deductions  in  our  tribute  of  gratitude. 

218 


SHAKESPEARE'S   SONNETS^ 

THERE  goes  a  story  that  an  ingenuous  youth, 
who  had  the  privilege  of  an  introduction 
to  Lord  Beaconsfield,  resolved  to  make  the  best  of 
the  occasion,  by  extracting,  if  possible,  from  that 
astute  political  sage  the  secret  of  success  in  life. 
It  might  take  the  form,  he  thought,  of  a  little 
practical  advice.  For  that  advice,  explaining 
the  object  with  which  it  was  asked,  he  accord- 
ingly applied.  "  Yes,"  said  Lord  Beaconsfield, 
"  I  think  I  can  give  you  some  advice  which  may 
possibly  be  of  use  to  you.  Never  trouble  your- 
self about  The  Man  in  the  Iron  Mask,  and  never 
get  into  a  discussion  about  the  authorship  of  the 
Letters  of  Junius."  In  all  seriousness  we  think 
it  is   high  time  that   the    "  closure "  should  be 

'  The  Mystery  of  Shakespeare^ a  Sonnets:  an  attempted 
Elucidation.  By  Cuming  Walters.  Testimony  of  the 
Sonnets  as  to  the  Authorship  of  the  Shakespearian  Plays 
and  Poems.  By  Jesse  Johnson.  Shakespeare's  Sonnets 
Reconsidered  and  in  part  Re-arranged,  with  Introductory 
Chapters,  Notes  and  a  Reprint  of  the  Original  1609  Edition. 
By  Samuel  Butler. 

210 


SHAKESPEARE'S  SONNETS 

applied  to  a  debate  on  another  "  mystery "  of 
which  every  one  must  be  tired  to  death,  except 
perhaps  those  who  contribute  to  it.  If  some  pro- 
gress could  be  made  towards  the  solution  of  the 
Mystery  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  if  there  was 
the  faintest  indication  of  any  dawn  on  the  dark- 
ness, even  the  wearied  reviewer  would  be  patient. 
But  the  thing  remains  exactly  where  it  was, 
before  this  appalling  literary  epidemic  set  in. 
During  the  last  three  or  four  years  scarcely  a 
month  has  passed  without  its  "  monograph," 
many  of  these  treatises,  mere  replicas  of  their 
predecessors,  differing  only  in  degrees  of  stupidity 
and  uselessness.  Mr.  Cuming  Walters'  volume, 
sensible  enough  and  intelligent,  we  quite  con- 
cede, simply  thrashes  the  straw.  It  professes  to 
be  an  original  contribution  to  the  question.  There 
is  not  a  view  or  theory  in  it,  which  is  not  now 
a  platitude  to  every  one  who  has  had  the  patience 
to  follow  this  controversy.  It  analyses  the 
Sonnets ;  they  have  been  analysed  hundreds  of 
times.  It  asks  who  was  W.  H. ;  it  answers  the 
question  as  it  has  been  answered  usque  ad 
nauseam.  It  discusses  the  dark  lady,  and  lands 
us  in  the  same  shifting  quagmire  of  opinion  in 
which  Mr.  Tyler  and  his  coadjutors  and  opponents 
have  been  floundering  for  the  last  four  years. 
It  assumes,  it  rejects,  it  questions,  it  suggests, 
what  has  been  assumed,  rejected,  questioned, 
and  suggested  over  and  over  again.  Indeed,  it 
may  now  be  said  with  literal  truth  that,  unless 

220 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

some  fresh  discovery  is  made,  nothing  new, 
whether  in  the  way  of  absurdity  or  sense,  can 
be  advanced  on  this  subject.  But  books  are 
multiplied  with  such  rapidity  and  in  such  pro- 
digious numbers  in  these  days,  that  they  thrive, 
like  cannibals,  on  one  another.  The  last  comer 
is  simply  its  forgotten  predecessor  in  disguise. 

But  platitude  is  the  very  last  charge  that  can 
be  brought  against  Mr.  Jesse  Johnson's  contribu- 
tion to  the  curiosities  of  Shakespearian  criticism. 
The  theory  advanced  here  is,  that  Shakespeare 
never  wrote  the  Sonnets  at  all,  that  he  was  quite 
unequal  to  their  composition,  that  the  author  of 
them  "was  probably  fifty,  perhaps  sixty,  and 
that  he  was  besides  a  man  of  genius,  which 
Shakespeare  certainly  was  not.  I  would  not," 
says  Mr.  Jesse  Johnson,  "  deny  to  Shakespeare 
groat  talent.  His  success  in  and  with  theatres 
certainly  forbids  us  to  do  so.  That  he  had  a 
bent  or  a  talent  for  rhyming  or  for  poetry,  an 
early  and  persistent  tradition  and  the  inscrip- 
tion over  his  grave  indicate.  And  otherwise 
there  could  hardly  have  been  attributed  to  him 
so  many  plays,  besides  those  written  by  the 
author  of  the  Sonnets."  Shakespeare  may  have 
been  equal  to  trifles  like  Hamlet  or  Lear — for 
Mr.  Jesse  Johnson  would  be  the  last  to  dispute 
the  claim  made  for  Shakespeare  as  a  hard- 
working playwright  clearing  his  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  a  year  (Mr.  Jesse  Johnson  is 
calculating  his  income  according  to  the  present 

221 


SHAKESPEARE'S   SONNETS 

time) — but  "to  Shakespeare  working  as  an  actor, 
adapter  or  perhaps  author  came  a  very  great 
poet,  one  who  outclassed  all  the  writers  of  that 
day,  and  it  is  the  poetry  of  that  great  unknown 
which,  flowing  into  Shakespeare's  work,  comprises 
all  or  nearly  all  of  it  which  the  world  treasures 
or  cares  to  remember."  If  we  told  Mr.  Jesse 
Johnson,  and  all  who  resemble  Mr.  Jesse  Johnson, 
the  truth  about  their  productions,  we  are  quite 
certain  of  one  thing — but  the  one  thing  of  which 
we  are  certain  it  would,  perhaps,  be  good  taste  in 
us  to  leave  unsaid. 

Of  a  very  different  order  is  Mr.  Samuel 
Butler's  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  Reconsidered. 
This  is  the  work  of  a  scholar,  but  of  a  scholar 
mounted  on  a  hobby-horse  of  unusually  vigorous 
mettle.  Mr.  Butler  begins  with  a  tremendous 
onslaught  on  the  theories  of  the  Southampton- 
ites,  the  Herbertists  and  the  anti-autobiographical 
party ;  and  in  this  part  of  his  work  he  has  certainly 
much  to  say  which  is  both  pertinent  and  plaus- 
ible, nay,  in  our  opinion,  convincing.  But  he  is 
less  successful  in  construction  than  in  demolition. 
His  own  contention  is,  that  the  Sonnets  are 
undoubtedly  autobiographical,  and  very  deroga- 
tory to  Shakespeare's  moral  character.  He  is 
satisfied  that  *'  Mr.  W.  H. "  was  the  youth  who 
inspired  them,  not  the  youth  who  simply 
collected,  or  procured  them,  and  gave  them  to 
Thorpe,  but  that  this  youth  was  neither  the 
Earl  of  Southampton  nor  the  Earl  of  Pembroke, 

222 


SHAKESPEARE'S   SONNETS 

nor,  indeed,  any  one  of  superior  social  rank  to 
the  poet,  though  this  has  always  been  assumed. 
Adopting  the  theory  of  Tyrwhitt  and  Malone 
that  the  key  to  the  youth's  name  is  to  be  found 
in  the  seventh  line  of  the  twentieth  sonnet, — 

"A  man  in  hew  all  Hetoes  in  his  controlling." 

and  deducing,  with  them,  from  Sonnets  cxxxv., 
cxxxvi.  and  cxliii.  that  the  youth's  Christian 
name  was  William,  Mr.  Butler  believes,  as  they 
did,  that  the  youth's  name  was  William  Hughes, 
or  Hewes ;  and  Mr.  Butler  is  inclined  to  identify 
him,  though  he  speaks,  of  course,  by  no  means 
confidently,  with  a  William  Hughes,  who  served 
as  steward  in  the  Vangicard,  Swiftsure  and 
Dreadnought,  and  who  died  in  March,  1636-7. 
Mr.  Butler  supports  his  theories  with  hypotheses 
which  an  impartial  judge  of  evidence  will  find 
it  difficult  to  concede.  In  the  face  of  Sonnets 
XXX vi.,  xxxvii.  and  cxxiv.  the  contention  that 
the  youth  was  not  in  a  superior  social  station  to 
the  poet  cannot  be  maintained  with  any  con- 
fidence. There  are  still  graver  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  supposing  that  the  Sonnets  were  written 
between  January,  1585-6  and  December,  1588. 
That  they  could  be  the  work  of  a  young  man 
between  his  twenty-first  and  his  twenty-fourth 
year,  and  have  preceded  by  some  four  years 
the  composition  of  Ventis  and  Adonis  and  the 
Rape  of  Lucrece,  is  simply  incredible ;  but  it  is  a 
question  which  cannot  be  argued,  for  we  have 

223 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

nothing  but  mere  hypothesis  to  go  upon.  Mr. 
Butler's  arrangement  and  interpretation  of  the 
Sonnets  are,  moreover,  purely  fanciful.  When 
Mr.  Butler  would  have  us  believe  that  some  of 
the  Sonnets  in  the  second  group,  from  cxxvii. 
to  clii.,  are  addressed  to  and  concern  not  the 
woman,  but  the  youth,  he  asks  us  to  accept  a 
theory  which  is  not  only  revolting,  but  which 
sets  all  probability  at  defiance.  Similarly  absurd, 
he  must  forgive  us  for  saying,  is  his  grotesquely 
repulsive  interpretation  of  Sonnet  xxxiv.  Nor 
is  there  anything  to  justify  the  interpretation 
placed  on  Sonnets  xxxiii.  and  xxxiv.  or  the  col- 
location of  cxxi.  All  that  can  be  said  for  Mr. 
Butler's  exceedingly  ingenious  and  admirably 
argued  theory  is,  that  it  supports  a  view  of  the 
question  which,  if  it  admits  of  no  positive  con- 
futation, produces  no  conviction.  No  theory, 
based  on  an  arbitrary  arrangement  of  these 
poems  and  on  positive  deductions  drawn,  or 
rather  strained,  from  most  ambiguous  evidence 
and  from  pure  hypotheses,  can  possibly  be  satis- 
factory. 

The  problem  presented  in  these  Sonnets  is 
undoubtedly  the  most  fascinating  problem  in 
all  literature,  and  it  is  as  exasperating  as  it 
is  fascinating.  It  appears  to  be  so  simple,  it 
seems  constantly  to  be  on  the  verge  of  its 
solution,  and  yet  the  moment  wo  get  beyond  a 
certain  point  in  inquiry,  the  more  complex  its 
apparent  simplicity  is  discovered  to  be,  the  more 

224 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

hopeless  all  prospect  of  explaining  the  enigma. 
Take  the  difficulty  of  assuming,  what  seems 
to  be  obvious,  that  they  are  autobiographical. 
Here  we  have  the  poet,  and  that  poet  Shake- 
speare, admitting  the  world  into  the  innermost 
secrets  of  his  life,  taking  his  contemporaries, 
without  the  least  reserve,  into  his  confidence, 
inviting  and  assisting  them  to  the  study  of  his 
own  morbid  anatomy,  and,  in  a  word,  stripping 
himself  bare  with  all  the  shameless  abandon  of 
Jean  Jacques  and  of  Casanova.  Everything 
that  we  know  of  Shakespeare  seems  to  dis- 
countenance the  probability  of  his  having  any 
such  intention.  No  anecdote,  with  the  smallest 
pretence  to  authenticity,  couples  his  name  with 
scandal.  The  theory  which  identifies  him  with 
the  W.  S.  of  Willobie's  A  visa  has  no  real  basis 
to  rest  on,  and  without  corroboration  is 
absolutely  inadmissible  as  evidence.  Whatever 
Shakespeare's  private  life  may  have  been,  it 
is  quite  clear  that  he  carefully  regarded  the 
decencies,  and  would  have  been  the  last  man  in 
the  world  to  pose  publicly  in  the  character  pre- 
sented to  us  in  the  Sonnets.  If  the  poems  are 
autobiographical,  we  can  only  conclude  that 
they  were  published  without  his  consent,  and 
even  to  his  groat  annoyance.  This  may  cer- 
tainly have  been  the  case,  and  is  indeed  often 
assumed  to  have  been  so.  But  even  then  it 
is,  to  say  the  least,  curious,  that  there  should 
have  been  no  tradition  about  the  extraordinary 
B.a  225  P 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

story  which  they  tell,  especially  considering  the 
distinction  of  the  dramatis  personce.  Assuming 
that  the  youth,  who  is  their  hero,  was  a  real 
person,  he  must,  judging  from  Sonnets  xxxvi., 
XXX vii.  and  cxxiv.,  have  been  conspicuous  in  the 
society  of  that  time ;  assuming  the  rival  poet  to 
be  a  real  person,  he  must  have  been  equally  con- 
spicuous in  another  sphere,  while  Shakespeare 
himself,  at  the  time  the  Sonnets  were  published, 
was  the  most  distinguished  poet  and  playwright 
in  London.  It  is,  therefore,  extraordinary  that 
all  traces  of  an  affair  in  which  persons  of  so 
much  eminence  were  involved,  and  which  would 
have  furnished  scandal-mongers  with  the  topics 
in  which  such  gossips  most  delight,  should  have 
entirely  disappeared.  We  must  either  conclude 
that  posterity  has  been  very  unfortunate  in  the 
loss  of  records  which  would  have  thrown  light 
on  the  matter,  or  that  Shakespeare's  contem- 
poraries knew  nothing  of  the  facts,  and  con- 
tented themselves  with  the  poetry ;  or,  lastly,  that 
what  we  may  call  the  fable  of  the  Sonnets,  the 
drama  in  which  W.  H.,  "  the  dark  lady,"  and  the 
rival  poet  play  their  parts,  is  as  fictitious  as  the 
plot  of  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  or  The 
Tempest. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  support  any  of  the 
numerous  theories  which  pretend  to  give  us  the 
key  to  these  Sonnets,  still  less  to  propose  any 
new  one,  but  simply  to  show  that  the  enigma 
presented  by  them  is  as  insoluble  as  ever,  and 

226 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

fchat  all  attempts  to  throw  light  on  it  have 
served  to  effect  nothing  more  than  to  make 
darkness  visible  and  confusion  worse  confounded. 
Let  us  briefly  review  the  facts.  In  1609,  Thomas 
Thorpe,  a  well-known  Elizabethan  bookseller, 
published  a  small  quarto  volume,  entitled  Shake- 
speare's Sonnets,  having  apparently  not  obtained 
them  from  the  poet  himself,  and  to  this  volume 
was  prefixed  the  following  dedication  : — "  To 
the  onlie  begetter  of  these  ensuing  Sonnets,  Mr. 
W.  H.,  all  happiness  and  that  oternitie  promised 
by  our  ever-living  poet  wisheth  the  well-wishing 
adventurer  in  setting  forth.  T.  T."  Here  begins 
and  ends  all  that  is  certainly  known  about 
W.  H.  and  his  relation  to  these  poems.  No  one 
knows  who  he  was ;  no  one  knows  what  is 
exactly  meant  by  the  word  "  begetter,"  whether 
it  is  to  be  taken  in  the  sense  of  inspirer,  whether 
that  is  to  say  W.  H.  is  the  youth  celebrated 
in  the  Sonnets — "  the  master-mistress "  of  the 
poet's  passion,  or  whether  it  simply  means  the 
person  who  got  or  procured  the  poems  for 
Thorpe, — in  which  case  the  identification  of  the 
initials  is  of  no  consequence,  unless  we  are 
to  suppose  that  the  youth  who  inspired  them 
presented  them  to  Thorpe.  Mr.  Sidney  Lee,  in 
his  very  able  paper  in  the  Fortnightly  Review  for 
February,  1898,  and  in  his  Life  of  Shakespeare, 
argues  that  there  is  no  proof  that  the  youth 
of  the  Sonnets  was  named  "  Will,"  though 
this  has  always  been  assumed  to  be  the  case. 

227 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

The  evidence  on  which  the  point  must  be 
argued  will  be  found  in  the  puns  on  "  Will " 
in  Sonnets  cxxxiv.-vi.  and  cxliii.  It  seems  to 
us,  we  must  own,  that  the  balance  of  proba- 
bility, though  not  certainly  in  favour  of  the 
affirmative,  decidedly  inclines  towards  it. 
Granting  then, — for  it  is,  after  all,  only  an 
hypothesis, — that  the  initials  W.  H.  are  those  of 
the  youth  celebrated  in  the  Sonnets,  to  whom 
are  they  to  be  assigned  ?  The  youth,  whoever  he 
was,  is  represented  as  being  in  a  social  position 
superior  to  that  of  the  poet ;  he  has  apparently 
rank  and  title  ;  he  has  wealth  ;  he  is  young  and 
eminently  handsome,  his  beauty  being  of  a 
delicate,  effeminate  cast ;  he  is  highly  cultivated 
and  accomplished ;  he  is  on  terms  of  the  closest 
intimacy  with  the  poet,  by  whom  he  is  passion- 
ately beloved  ;  he  lives  a  free,  loose  life,  and  he 
intrigues  with  his  friend's  mistress. 

Passing  by  all  preposterous  theories  about 
William  Harte,  William  Hughes,  William  Him- 
self and  the  like,  we  come  to  the  two  names 
which  seem  worth  serious  consideration,  William 
Herbert,  third  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  Henry 
Wriothesly,  third  Earl  of  Southampton.  The 
Pembroke  theory,  with  Mr.  Thomas  Tyler's 
corollary  identifying  the  **  dark  lady  "  with 
Mary  Fitton,  has  been  adopted  by  Dr.  Brandes 
in  his  work  on  Shakespeare  just  published.  But 
the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  accepting  it  are 
insuperable.     They    have   been    admirably    dis- 

228 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

cussed  by  Mr.  Sidney  Lee  in  the  article  to  which 
we  have  referred.  In  the  first  place,  while 
Shakespeare  must  have  been  on  terms  of  more 
than  brotherly  intimacy  with  the  youth  of  the 
Sonnets,  there  is  no  evidence  at  all  that  he  had 
ever  been  in  any  other  relation  with  the  Earl 
than  in  the  ordinary  one  of  servant  and  patron. 
The  words  of  Heminge  and  Condell,  in  the  dedi- 
cation of  the  first  folio  to  Pembroke  and  his 
brother,  merely  state  that  they  had  both  of 
them  "  prosequted  "  him  with  favour ;  in  other 
words,  been  to  him  what  they  had  been  to 
many  other  dramatists  and  men  of  letters  ;  and 
that  is  the  only  evidence  of  any  connection 
between  Shakespeare  and  Pembroke.  Tradition 
was  certainly  silent  about  any  relations  between 
them,  for  Aubrey,  as  Mr.  Lee  has  pointed  out, 
though  he  has  collected  much  information  about 
both,  says  nothing  about  their  acquaintance- 
ship, though  he  mentions  Pembroke's  connec- 
tion with  Massinger,  and  Southampton's  with 
Shakespeare.  But  Thorpe's  dedication  is  con- 
clusive against  Pembroke.  In  1609,  Pembroke, 
who  had  succeeded  to  the  title  on  the  death  of 
his  father  in  January,  IGOl,  was  Lord  Chamber- 
lain, a  Knight  of  the  Garter,  and  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  noblemen  in  England.  Is 
it  credible  that  Thorpe  would  address  him  as 
Mr.  W.  H.,  more  especially  as  in  the  other 
works  which  he  inscribed  to  him, — and  he 
inscribed  several, — he  is  careful  to  give  him  all 

229 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

his  titles,  and  to  address  him  with  the  most 
fulsome  servility?  Again,  Pembroke,  as  Mr. 
Lee  points  out,  was  never  a  "  Mister"  at  all.  As 
the  eldest  son  of  an  earl,  he  was  designated  by- 
courtesy  Lord  Herbert,  and  as  Lord  Herbert  he 
is  always  spoken  of  in  contemporary  records. 
The  appellation  "  Mr. "  was  not,  as  Mr.  Lee 
observes,  used  loosely,  as  it  is  now,  and  could 
never  have  been  applied  to  any  nobleman, 
whether  holding  his  title  by  right  or  by  courtesy. 
Whatever  allowance  may  be  made  for  a  poet's 
passion  and  fancy,  some  weight  must  be  attached 
to  the  insistence  made  in  the  Sonnets  on  the 
youth's  delicate  and  effeminate  beauty.  It  is 
true  that  we  have  no  portraits  of  Pembroke 
before  he  arrived  at  middle  age,  but  those 
portraits  justify  us  in  concluding  that  he 
could  never,  at  any  time,  have  been  distin- 
guished by  beauty  of  the  type  indicated  in  the 
poems. 

Against  all  this  the  advocates  of  the  Pembroke 
theory  have  nothing  to  place  but  conjectures,  a 
series  of  insignificant  coincidences  and  the 
assumption  that  the  woman  in  the  Sonnets  is  to 
be  identified  with  the  woman  who  bore  Herbert 
a  child,  Mary  Fitton.  The  publication  of  Sonnet 
xliv.  by  Jaggard,  in  1599,  shows  that  the  intrigue 
between  the  youth  and  the  dark  lady,  which  is 
the  central  event  of  the  Sonnets,  was  already, 
and  had  probably  been  for  some  time,  in  full 
career,    while  there   is   no   evidence  that  Pem- 

230 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

broke  was  involved  with  Mary  Fitton  before 
the  summer  of  1600.  But  what  finally  disposes 
of  this  theory  is  the  testimony  afforded  by 
Lady  Newdigate-Newdegate's  recently  published 
Crossip  from  a  Muniment  Room,.  Indispens- 
able requisites  in  the  lady  of  the  Sonnets  are, 
that  she  should  be  dark,  a  "  black  beauty  "  with 
"  eyes  raven  black,"  with  hair  which  resembles 
"  black  wires,"  and  that  she  should  be  a  married 
woman  ;  but  the  portraits — and  there  are  two  of 
them — of  Mary  Fitton,  show  that  she  had  a  fair 
complexion,  with  brown  hair  and  grey  eyes;  and 
she  remained  unmarried,  until  long  after  her 
connection  with  Pembroke  had  ceased. 

The  theory  which  identifies  W.  H.  with  the 
Earl  of  Southampton  is  slightly  more  plausible, 
but  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  accepting  it  are, 
in  truth,  equally  insuperable.  This  theory  has 
at  least  one  great  point  in  its  favour.  Shake- 
speare was  acquainted,  and  it  may  be  inferred 
intimately  acquainted,  with  Southampton,  as 
the  dedications  of  Venus  and  Adonis  and  the 
Rape  of  Lucrece  indicate.  Of  his  affection  and 
respect  for  this  nobleman  he  has  left  an  expres- 
sion almost  as  remarkable  as  the  language  of  the 
sonnets.  "  The  love  I  dedicate  to  your  lordship 
is  without  end.  .  .  .  What  I  have  done  is  yours; 
what  I  have  to  do  is  yours :  being  part  in  all  I 
have  devoted  yours.  Were  my  worth  greater, 
my  duty  would  show  greater."  This  bears  a 
singularly  close  resemblance  to  Sonnet  xxvi., — 

231 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

Lord  of  my  love,  to  whom  in  vassalage 

Thy  merit  hath  my  duty  strongly  knit, 

To  thee  I  send  this  written  embassage 

To  witness  duty,  not  to  show  my  wit. 

Duty  so  great,  which  wit  so  poor  as  mine 

May  make  seem  bare,  in  wanting  words  to  show  it.' 


And  there  is  much  in  the  Sonnets  which  can  be 
made  to  coincide  with  what  we  know  of  South- 
ampton. But,  as  we  push  inquiry,  difficulties  of 
all  kinds  begin  to  swarm  in  on  us.  The  first  is, 
as  in  the  case  of  Pembroke,  with  the  dedication. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  "  W.  H."  is  not 
"  H.  W." — the  possibility  of  the  appellation  of 
"Mr."  being  applied  to  one  who  had  been  an 
Earl  since  1581,  and  who  had  twice  been  ad- 
dressed in  dedications  by  his  full  titles,  and  that 
by  Shakespeare  himself,  is  a  wholly  inadmissible 
hypothesis.  To  argue  that  this  was  merely  "  a 
blind,"  is  simply  to  bog  the  question.  If  the 
Sonnets  were  addressed  to  Southampton,  they 
must  have  been  written  between  1593  and  1598. 
In  1593  Southampton  was  in  his  twenty-first 
year,  in  1598  in  his  twenty-sixth;  Shakespeare, 
respectively,  in  his  thirty-first  and  thirty-fifth 
year.  Now,  what  is  especially  emphasized  in  the 
sonnets  is  the  youthfulness  of  the  young  man  to 
whom  they  are  dedicated,  and  the  advanced 
age  of  the  poet.  In'  Sonnet  eviii.  the  youth  is 
addressed  as  "a  sweet  boy,"  in  cxxvi.  as  "a 
lovely  boy,"  in  liv.  as  "a  beauteous  and  lovely 
youth  "  ;  in  xcv.  his  "  budding  name  "  is  referred 

232 


HHAKESPEARE'8    SONNETS 

to,  while  the  poet  speaks  of  himself  as  "  old,"  as 
"  beaten  and  chopped  with  tanned  antiquity,"  as 
being  "  with  Time's  injurious  hand  crushed  and 
o'erworn."  And  so,  as  has  been  more  than  once 
pointed  out,  we  have  this  anomaly — a  man  of 
thirty-four  describing  himself  as  a  thing  of 
"  tanned  antiquity  "  in  writing  to  "  a  sweet  and 
lovely  boy  "  of  twenty-five.  No  one  could  have 
been  less  like  the  effeminate  youth  of  the  Son- 
nets than  Southampton.  All  we  know  about 
him,  including  his  portraits,  indicates  that  he 
was  eminently  masculine  and  manly.  Again,  it 
is  matter  of  history  that  he  greatly  distin- 
guished himself  on  the  Azores  expedition  in 
1597,  acquitting  himself  with  so  much  gallantry 
that,  during  the  voyage,  he  was  knighted  by 
Essex.  To  this  expedition,  which  must  have 
involved  one  of  those  absences  of  which  we  hear 
so  much  in  the  Sonnets,  to  this  exploit  and  this 
honour,  which  afforded  so  much  opportunity  for 
peculiarly  acceptable  compliment,  Shakespeare 
makes  no  reference  at  all.  There  is  nothing  to 
indicate  that  the  youth  of  the  Sonnets  had 
gained  any  military  or  political  distinction,  had 
taken  any  part  in  public  life,  or  had  ever  been 
absent  from  England.  To  assume  with  Mr.  Lee 
that  the  Sonnets  were  written  in  or  before  1594, 
and  therefore  before  Southampton  had  become 
distinguished,  is  to  involve  ourselves  in  inextric- 
able difficulties.  Even  Mr.  Lee  admits  that 
Sonnet  cvii.  muat  have  reference  to  the  death 

233 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

of  Elizabeth  in  1603.  With  regard  to  the 
supposed  references  to  Southampton's  relations 
with  Elizabeth  Vernon,  no  certain,  or,  to  speak 
more  accurately,  no  even  plausible  inferences 
can  be  drawn  in  any  particular :  all  that  they 
can  be  reduced  to  are  degrees  of  improbability. 

If,  again,  we  accept  the  theory  of  Tyrwhitt  and 
Malone,  supported  by  Mr.  Butler,  and  suppose 
that  W.  H.  was  some  obscure  person,  we  are 
proceeding  on  mere  hypothesis,  and  a  hypothesis 
seriously  shaken  by  the  plain  meaning  expressed 
in  Sonnets  xxxvi.,  xxxvii.,  and  cxxiv. 

The  enigma  of  these  Sonnets  is,  we  repeat,  as 
insoluble  now  as  it  was  when  inquiry  was  first 
directed  to  them.  Whether  they  are  to  be  re- 
garded as  autobiographical,  as  dramatic  studies, 
as  a  mixture  of  both,  as  a  collection  of  mis- 
cellaneous poems,  as  written  to  order  for  others, 
as  mere  exercises  in  the  sonnet-cycle,  or  as  all 
of  these  things,  is  alike  uncertain.  Our  know- 
ledge of  the  time  of  their  composition  begins 
and  ends  with  the  facts,  that  some  of  them 
were,  presumably,  in  circulation  in  or  before 
1598,  that  two  of  them  had  certainly  been  com- 
posed in  or  before  1599,  and  that  all  of  them 
had  been  written  by  1609.  The  rest  is  mere 
conjecture  ;  and  on  mere  conjecture  and  mere 
hypothesis  is  based  every  attempt  to  solve 
their  mystery.  If  certainty  about  them  can 
ever  be  arrived  at,  it  can  only  be  attained  by 
evidence  of  which,  as  yet,  we  have  not  even  an 

234 


SHAKESPEARE'S    SONNETS 

inkling.  The  probability  is,  that  it  was  Shake- 
speare's intention,  or  rather  Thorpe's  intention, 
to  baffle  curiosity,  and,  except  in  the  judgment 
of  fanatics,  he  has  certainly  succeeded  in  doing 
so. 

For  our  own  part  we  are  very  much  inclined 
to  suspect,  that  they  owed  their  origin  to  the 
fashion  of  composing  sonnet-cycles,  that  those 
cycles  suggested  their  themes  and  gave  them 
the  ply ;  that  the  beautiful  youth,  the  rival  poet, 
and  the  dark  lady  are  pure  fictions  of  the 
imagination ;  and  that  these  poems  are  autobio- 
graphical only  in  the  sense  in  which  Venus  and 
Adonis,  the  Rape  of  Lucrece,  Romeo  and  Juliet 
and  Othello  are  autobiographicaL 


235 


LANDSCAPE  IN  POETRY 

IT  would  be  scarcely  possible  for  a  critic  of 
Mr.  Palgrave's  taste  and  learning  to  produce 
a  treatise  on  any  asjject  of  poetry,  which  would 
not  be  full  of  interest  and  instruction,  and  the 
present  volume  is  a  contribution,  and  in  some 
respects  a  memorable  contribution,  to  a  par- 
ticularly attractive  subject  of  critical  inquiry. 
Its  purpose  is  to  trace  the  history  of  descriptive 
poetry  in  its  relation,  that  is  to  say,  to  natural 
objects  and  more  particularly  to  landscape,  by 
illustrating  its  characteristics  at  different  periods, 
and  among  different  nations.  Beginning  with 
the  Homeric  poems,  Mr.  Palgrave  reviews  suc- 
cessively the  "  landscape "  of  the  Greeks,  the 
Romans,  the  Hebrews,  the  mediaeval  Italians, 
the  Celts,  the  Anglo-Saxons,  and  of  our  own 
poets,  from  the  predecessors  of  Chaucer  to  Lord 
Tennyson.  That  a  work,  covering  an  area  so 
immense,  should  be  far  less  satisfactory  in  some 
portions  than  in  others  is  no  more  than   what 

'  Landscape  in  Poetry  from   Homer  to   Tennyson.    By 
Francis  T.  Palgrave. 

236 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

might  be  expected,  and  Mr.  Palgrave  would 
probably  be  himself  the  first  to  admit  that,  ex- 
cept when  ho  is  dealing  with  the  classical  poetry 
of  Hellas,  of  ancient  and  mediaeval  Italy,  and  of 
our  own  country,  his  treatise  has  no  pretension 
to  adequacy.  Even  within  these  bounds  there 
is  much  which  is  irrelevant,  and  much  which  is 
surprisingly  defective.  Where,  as  in  a  subject 
like  this,  the  material  at  the  author's  disposal  is 
necessarily  so  superabundant,  surely  the  utmost 
care  should  have  been  taken  both  to  keep  within 
the  limits  of  the  theme  proposed,  and  to  select 
the  most  pertinent  and  typical  illustrations. 
But  when  Mr.  Palgrave  illustrates  "  Homeric 
landscape  "  by  the  simile  describing  the  heifers 
frisking  about  the  drove  of  cows  in  the  fold- 
yard,  and  the  "  Sophoclean  landscape "  by  the 
simile  of  the  blast-impelled  wave  rolling  up  the 
shingle,  he  lays  himself  open  to  the  imputation 
of  drawing  at  random  on  his  commonplace 
book.  Indeed,  the  pleasure  with  which  lovers 
of  classical  poetry  will  read  this  book  cannot 
fail  to  be  mingled  with  the  liveliest  surprise  and 
disappointment.  Take  the  Homeric  poems.  If 
a  reader,  tolerably  well  versed  in  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey,  were  asked  for  illustrations  of  the 
power  with  which  natural  phenomena  are  de- 
scribed, to  what  would  he  turn  ?  Certainly  not 
to  Mr.  Palgrave's  meagre  and  trivial  examples, 
three  of  which  alone  have  any  title  to  perti- 
nence.    He  would  turn  to  the  winter  landscape 

237 


LANDSCAPE   IN  POETRY 

iu  Iliad,  xii.  278-286,  to  the  lifting  of  the  cloud 
from  the  landscape  in  Iliad,  xvi.  296 : — 

0)5  6'  or    d(f)    v'^ijKris  Kopvcfirji  optos  pcyaXoio 
Kwqa-ji  iTVKivr}v  vf(f>(\t}v  (rTeponrjyepfTa  Z(vs, 
fK  t'  f(f)avfv  iracrai  (TKOTrial  koi  npuovts  OKpoi 
Koi  vanai,  ovpavoQev  8'  ap^  vntppayt]  acrntTos  atdrfp. 

"  As  when  Zeus,  the  gatherer  of  the  lightning,  moves  a 
thick  cloud  from  the  high  head  of  some  mighty  mountain, 
and  all  the  cliffs  and  the  jutting  crags  and  the  dells  start 
into  light,  and  the  immeasurable  heaven  breaks  oi)en  to  its 
highest " ; 

to  the  descent  of  the  wind  on  the  sea,  lb.  xi. 
305-308  :— 

its  onore  Ziipvpos  vf(f)ea  OTH^eAi'^iy 
apy((TTao  Ntiroto,  ^adfij]  \a1\a7r1  tvittuv' 
iToWov  8e  Tp6(})i  Kvpa  KvXivbfrai,  vyj^oae  8'  fixvrj 
(TKidvaTai  f^  di/ijxoio  iroXvnXdyKTOi.o  io)iji. 

"As  when  the  west  wind  buffets  the  cloudlets  of  the 
brightening  south  wind,  lashing  them  with  furious  squall, 
and  the  big  wave  swells  up  and  rolls  along,  and  the  spray  is 
scattered  on  high  by  the  blast  of  the  careering  gale  "  ; 

or  to  the  pictures  of  the  billow-buffeted  headland, 
and  the  wave  bursting  on  the  ship  in  Iliad,  xv. 
618-628  ;  or  to  the  storm-cloud  coming  over  the 
sea  in  Iliad,  iv.  277  ;  or  to  the  descent  of  the 
wind  on  the  standing  corn,  Iliad,  ii.  147.  He 
would  point,  above  all,  to  the  description  of 
Calypso's  grotto,  in  Odyssey,  v.  63-74;  to  that 
of  the  harbour  of  Phorcys,  in  Odyssey,  xiii. 
97-112 ;  to  the  fountain  in  the  grove,  xvii. 
205-211.  Mr.  Palgrave  comments  justly  on 
Homer's  minute  observation  of  nature  ;  but  he 

238 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

only  gives  one  illustration,  where  it  is  noticed  in 
Odyssey,  vi.  94,  that  the  sea,  in  beating  on  the 
coast,  "  washed  the  pebbles  clean."  He  might 
have  added  with  propriety  many  others :  as 
the  "  earth  blackening  behind  the  plough,"  in 
Iliad,  xviii.  548  ;  the  bats  in  the  cave,  Odyssey, 
xxiv.  5-8  ;  the  birds  escaping  from  the  vultures, 
Iliad,  xxii.  304,  305  ;  the  wasps  "  wriggling  as 
far  as  the  middle,"  a<l)rJKe^  fieaov  aloXoi,  Iliad, 
xii.  167  ;  the  dogs  and  the  lions,  Iliad,  xviii. 
585,  586. 

Mr.  Palgrave  observes  that  Homer  "  was  not 
only  familiar  with  the  sea,  but  loved  it  with  a 
love  somewhat  unusual  in  poets."  We  venture 
to  submit  that  there  is  not  a  line  in  Homer 
indicating  that  he  "  loved "  the  sea,  except  for 
poetical  purposes  ;  like  most  of  the  Greeks  he 
probably  dreaded  it ;  his  real  feeling  towards 
it  is  no  doubt  indicated  in  his  own  words  : — 

oil  yap  cyw  yt  ri  (prjui  KaKatrtpov  SlKKo  daXdacrrfS 
av8pa  ye  <Tvy\(vai. 

— nothing  crushes  a  man's  spirit  more  than 
the  sea.  Mr.  Palgrave  justly  points  out  that 
Hesiod's  rude  prosaic  style  and  matter  are  not 
congenial  to  the  poetic  landscape,  yet  it  is  only 
fair  to  Hesiod  to  say,  that  his  poetry  is  not  with- 
out vivid  touches  of  natural  description,  as  the 
winter  scene  in  Works  and  Days,  504  sqq.,  and 
his  description  of  the  beginning  of  spring, 
565-569,  show.     Professor  Palgrave  next  glances 

239 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

at  the  treatment  of  nature  in  the  lyric  poets, 
and  very  properly  cites  the  lovely  fragment  of 
Alcman : 

/SdAe  817  /SaXf  KrjpvXos  (ir]v 
OS  r'  tn)  KVfiaTos  (ivdos  afi'  aKKvovtaai  norrJTai, 
VTJXtyfi  rjTop  (xaiv,  aXnr6p(})vpoi  fiapos  opvis, — 

but  in  translating  it  makes  a  truly  extraordinary 
blunder. 

"  Would  I  were  the  kingfisher,  as  he  flies,  with  his  mates 
in  his  feeble  age,  between  wind  and  water." 

vtjkeye^  rjTop  meaning,  as  we  need  hardly  say, 
"reckless  heart";  it  is  exactly  Byron's,  "With 
all  her  reckless  birds  upon  the  wing."  In 
the  quotations  from  Sappho,  Ibycus,  and 
Pindar,  Mr.  Palgrave  has  been  judicious  and 
happy,  but  surely  he  ought  to  have  found  place 
for  the  lovely  flower  cradle  of  lamus  in  the  sixth 
Olympic  Ode,  and  for  the  moonlight  evening 
in  the  third  Olympian, — only  seven  words,  but 
what  a  picture  ! — while,  in  the  popular  poetry, 
the  omission  of  the  Swallow  Song  is  inexplic- 
able.' Nor  can  we  forgive  him  the  omission 
of  the  magnificent  simile  of  the  spring  wind 
clearing  away  the  clouds,  in  the  thirteenth  of 
the  fragments  attributed  to  Solon. 

But  it  is  in  dealing  with  the  Greek  dramatists 
that  Mr.  Palgrave  is  most  defective  in  illustration. 
It  is  not  to  the  opening  of  the  Prometheus,  or  to 
the  conclusion,  or,  indeed,  to  any  of  the  passages 

'  See  Bergk,  Poet.  Lyr.  Carm.  Pop.  xxix. 
240 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

from  this  poet  which  Mr.  Palgjrave  cites,  that 
we  must  turn  for  jEschylean  landscape,  or  for 
illustration  of  this  poet's  power  of  natural  de- 
scription. It  is  to  his  brief  picture — his  pictures 
of  scenery,  though  singularly  vivid,  are  always 
brief — of  the  airy  seat  "against  which  the 
watery  clouds  drift  into  snow," 

Xurvas  alyiXi"^  dnpoaitiKTOt  ol6<f)pav  Kptfms 
yvirias  nirpa  {Supplices,  772-3), 

where  almost  every  word  is  a  perfect  picture, 
literally  beggaring  mere  translation  ;  it  is  to  his 
description,  so  magical  in  its  rhythm,  of  the 
mid-day  sea  slumbering  in  sununer  calm  (Aga- 
memnon, 548-50), 

^  da\iroSf  cJrf  ir6vTos  iv  fitOTJiifipivals 
Koirais  OKVUcav  yrjvtpois  tvSoi  irtaav, 

to  his  picture  of  the  keen  brisk  wind,  clearing 
the  clouds  away,  to  bring  into  relief  against  the 
sky  the  dark  masses  of  waves  tossing  on  the  hori- 
zon {Agam£m,nony  1152-54),  to  his  world-famous 

nomiav  Kv/iaruv 
apfjpidfiov  yf\a(Tfia. 

"  The  multitudinous  laughter  of  the  ocean  waves." 

—Prometheus,  89-90. 

Mr.  Palgrave  has,  of  course,  cited  with  reference 
to  Sophocles  the  great  chorus  in  the  (Edijms 
Coloneus,  but  he  has  omitted  to  notice  that,  if 
Sophocles  has  not  elsewhere  given  us  so  elabo- 
rate a  piece  of  natural  description,  innumerable 
E.G.  241  Q 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

touches  in  the  dramas,  and  more  particularly  in 
the  fragments,  show  that  he  observed  nature 
almost  as  minutely  as  Shakespeare.  Nothing 
could  be  more  vivid  than  the  touches  of  descrip- 
tion in  the  Philoctetes.  From  Euripides  Mr.  Pal- 
grave  cites  nothing,  observing  that  he  rarely  goes 
beyond  somewhat  conventional  phrases.  Surely 
Mr.  Palgrave  must  have  forgotten  the  magnifi- 
cent description  of  Parnassus,  as  seen  from  the 
plain,  in  the  Phcenissce,  the  glorious  description 
of  a  moonlight  night,  as  represented  on  the 
tapestry,  in  the  Ion,  the  vivid  touches  of  natural 
description  in  the  Bacchce,  that  of  the  meadow 
in  the  Hippolytus,  and  the  chorus  about  Athens 
in  the  Medea,  to  say  nothing  of  the  charming 
rural  picture  in  the  fragments  of  the  Phaeton.^ 
To  say  of  Aristophanes  that,  in  his  treatment  of 
nature,  he  rarely  goes  beyond  somewhat  common 
phrases,  is  to  say  what  is  refuted,  not  merely  in 
the  chorus  referred  to  by  Mr.  Palgrave,  but  in 
the  Frogs  and  in  the  Birds.  He  stands  next  to 
Homer  in  his  keen  sensibility  to  the  charm  of 
nature.  Shelley  himself  might  have  written 
the  choruses  referred  to.  In  dealing  with  the 
Alexandrian  poets  Mr.  Palgrave  passes  over 
ApoUonius  Rhodius  and  Callimachus  entirely, 
and  yet  the  fine  picture  of  Delos  given  by  Calli- 
machus in  the  Hymn  to  Delos  is  one  of  the 
gems  of  ancient  description,  and  ApoUonius 
Rhodius   abounds   with   the   most   graphic  and 

*  Naucki  Trag.  Grcec.  Frag.,  p.  473. 
242 


LANDSCAPE   IN  POETRY 

charming  delineations  of  scenery  and  natural 
objects.  What  a  beautiful  description  of  early 
morning  is  this  ! — 

jjfws  i    ovpavodfv  \apoirr)  VTroXafiirfToi  r)as 
«K  rrff)drt)s  actoOo-a,  diayXavaaovari  S'  drapiroi, 
Kcu  iTfbia  bpovotvra  (j)afivfj  \dfnreTai  atyXfj. 

Argon,  i.  1280-1283. 

"What  time  from  heaven  the  bright  glad  morn  coming  up 
from  the  East  begins  to  shine,  and  path  and  road  are  all 
agleam,  and  the  dew-bespangled  plains  are  flashing  with  the 
radiant  light." 

How  vivid  too,  and  with  the  vividness  of  modem 
poetry,  are  his  descriptions  of  the  cave  of  Hades 
and  its  neighbourhood  (ii.  729-750),  and  the 
Great  Syrtis  (iv.  1230-1245)  !  In  his  selections 
from  the  Greek  Anthology  Mr.  Palgrave  is  much 
happier ;  but  here  again  he  has  many  omissions, 
and  among  them  the  most  remarkable  illustra- 
tion of  Greek  nature-painting  to  be  found  in 
that  collection — namely,  Meleager's  idyll  giving 
an  elaborate  description  of  a  spring  day,  which 
might  have  been  written  by  Thomson  {Pal. 
Anthology,  ix.  363).  It  may  bo  observed  in 
passing  that  ovp€ai<f)oiTa  xpiva  {Pal.  Anth.,  v.  144) 
can  hardly  mean  "lilies  that  wander  over  the 
hills,"  but  lilies  "  that  haunt  the  hills,"  and  that 
^ovBai  fj.e\i<Taai  in  Theocritus,  vii.  142,  probably 
means  "  buzzing  "  bees,  not  "  tawny." 

In  dealing  with  the  Roman  poets  Mr.  Palgrave 
is,  with  one  exception,  most  unsatisfactory. 
From   the  poets  preceding  Lucretius,  amply  as 

243 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

the  fragments  would  serve  his  purpose,  he  gives 
only  one  illustration.  We  should  have  expected 
the  vivid  picture  given  by  Accius  in  his  (Enomaua 
of  the  early  morning : 

**  Forte  ante  Auroram,  radiorum  ardentum  indicem, 
Cum  e  somno  in  segetem  agrestis  cornutos  cient, 
Ut  rorulentas  terras  ferro  rufidas 
Proscindant,  glebasque  arvo  ex  molli  exsuscitent." 

"Perchance  before  the  dawn  that  heralds  the  burning  rays, 
what  time  rustics  bring  forth  the  oxen  from  their  sleep  into 
the  cornfields,  to  break  up  the  red  dew-spangled  soil  with  the 
ploughshare,  and  turn  up  the  clods  from  the  soft  soil  " ; 

or  the  wonderfully  graphic  description  of  a 
sudden  storm  at  sea,  in  the  fragments  of  the 
Dulorestes  of  Pacuvius  : 

"  Profectione  leeti  piscium  lasciviam 
Intuentur,  nee  tuendi  capere  satietas  potest. 
Interea  prope  jam  occidente  sole  inhorrescit  mare, 
Tenebrse  conduplicantur,  noctisque  et  nimbum  occsecat  nigror, 
Flamma  inter  nubes  coruscat,  cselum  tonitru  contremit, 
Grando  mixta  imbri  largifico  subita  prsecipitans  cadit, 
Undique  omnes  venti  erumpunt,  ssevi  existunt  turbines, 
Fervit  sestu  pelagus." 

"Glad  at  heart  when  they  set  out  they  gaze  at  the  sporting 
fish,  and  are  never  weary  of  looking  at  them.  Meanwhile, 
hard  upon  sunset,  the  sea  ruffles,  darkness  gathers  thick,  the 
blackness  of  the  storm-clouded  night  hides  everything,  flame 
flashes  between  the  clouds,  heaven  shakes  with  thunder, 
hail,  mingled  with  streaming  rain,  dashes  suddenly  down, 
from  every  quarter  all  the  winds  tear  forth,  wild  whirlwinds 
rise,  the  sea  boils  with  the  seething  waters." 

With  Lucretius,  indeed,  he  deals  fully,  and  this 

2U 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

portion  of  his  work  leaves  little  to  be  desired. 

But  a  reference  to  the  lines  to  Sirmio  and  one 

illustration  from  the  Peleus  and  Thetis  exhaust 

his  examples  from  CatuUus.     We  should  have 

expected  the  picture  of  the  stream  leaping  from 

the  mossy  rock  into  the  valley  beneath,  in  the 

Epistle   to   Manlius,    of    the    morning    chasing 

away  the  shadows  in  the  Attis,  and  the  lovely 

flower  pictures  in  the  Epithalamia.     In  dealing 

with   Virgil   most   of   Mr.    Palgrave's    citations 

are  practically  irrelevant ;    scarcely  any  of  the 

passages    which    best  illustrate   Virgil's   power 

of  landscape   painting   being   even  referred  to. 

"  The    ^neid,"   says    Mr.    Palgrave,    "  may    be 

briefly    dismissed.       Natural     description     can 

have    but    little    place   in   an   epic."     And    yet 

what  are  the  passages  to  which  any  one,  who 

wishes   to   illustrate  the  charm   and   power   of 

Virgil's    pictures    of    scenery,  would   naturally 

turn  ?     Surely  to  these :  the  description  of  the 

rocky    recess    which    sheltered    jEneas's    ships 

{^neid,  i.   159-168),   a  picture   worthy  of  Sal- 

vator ;  the  picture  of  w^tna  (iii.  570-582),  which 

rivals  the  picture  of  it  given  by  Pindar,  a  picture 

praised  so  justly  by  Mr.  Palgrave  himself;  the 

description  of   a  calm  night  (iv.  522-527);   the 

wave-buffeted,  gull-haunted   rock  (v.   124-128) ; 

and,  above  all,  the  scenery  at  the  mouth  of  the 

Tiber,  bathed  in  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun, 

a  picture  unexcelled  even    by    Tennyson.     Nor 

even  in  the  Georgica  is  any  reference  made  to 

245 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

the  superb  description  of  a  storm  in  harvest 
time  (i.  216-334),  or  to  the  magnificent  winter 
piece  (iii.  349-370). 

The  remarks  about  the  indifference  of  Pro- 
per tins  to  natural  scenery  are  most  unjust. 
What  a  charming  picture  is  this  ! — 

"Grata  domus  Nymphis  humida  Thyniasin, 
Quam  supra  nullse  pendebant  debita  curse 

Roscida  desertis  poma  sub  arboribus ; 
Et  circum  irriguo  surgebant  lilia  prato 
Candida  purpureis  mixta  papaveribus." 

El.,  I.  XX.  35-39. 

It  may  be  conceded  that  Ovid  is  conventional 
and  commonplace  in  his  treatment  of  nature ;  but 
why  is  Valerius  Flaccus,  with  his  bold,  vivid 
touches,  left  unnoticed?  Why  does  one  citation 
suffice  for  the  many  exquisite  cameos  which 
ought  to  have  been  given  from  Statins  ?  Another 
inexplicable  omission  in  Mr.  Palgrave's  work  is 
the  poem  entitled  Rosce,  attributed  to  Auso- 
nius — a  lovely  poem,  infinitely  more  beautiful 
than  the  epigram  quoted  by  Mr.  Palgravo  from 
the  Latin  Anthology,  and  rivalling  the  fragment 
given  by  him  from  Tiberianus.  Most  readers 
would  agree  with  him  in  his  estimate  of  Claudian, 
but  he  might  have  added  the  fine  description  of 
Olympus  in  the  De  Consulatu  Theodori^  200-210 : 

"Ut  altus  Olympi 
Vertex,  qui  spatio  ventos  hiemesque  relinquit, 
Perpetuum  nulla,  temeratus  nube  serenum 
Celsior  exsurgit  pluviis,  auditque  ruentes 
Sub  pedibus  nimbos,  et  rauca  tonitrua  calcat;' 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRT? 

which  Goldsmith,  by  the  way,  has  borrowed  and 
paraphrased  in  the  Deserted  Village,  together  with 
its  sublime  application  : 

As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form 
Swells  from  the  vale  and  midway  leaves  the  storm, 
Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  round  its  head. 

Space  does  not  serve  to  follow  Mr.  Palgrave 
through  his  chapters  on  Italian,  Celtic,  and  Anglo- 
Saxon  poetry,  in  all  of  which  his  omissions  are 
as  remarkable  as  his  citations  ;  so  we  must  con- 
tent ourselves  with  making  a  few  remarks  on 
his  treatment  of  the  English  poets.  It  is  pleasing 
to  see  that,  guided  by  Gray,  he  has  done  justice 
to  Lydgate,  but  he  has  not  noticed  the  distin- 
guishing peculiarity  of  this  poet  in  his  descrip- 
tion, his  extraordinary  sensitive  appreciation  of 
colour. 

Among  the  Scotch  poets  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury a  prominent  place  should  have  been  given 
to  Henryson  who  is  not  even  mentioned.  Mr. 
Palgrave  hurries  over  the  Elizabethan  poets 
with  too  much  expedition,  and  the  poets  of  the 
eighteenth  century  fare  even  worse.  Great  in- 
justice is  done  to  Thomson.  Why  did  not  Mr. 
Palgrave,  instead  of  citing  what  he  calls  Thom- 
son's "  cold  "  tropical  landscape,  for  the  purpose 
of  contrasting  it  unfavourably  with  Tennyson's 
picture  in  Enoch  Arden,  give  us  instead  the 
Summer  morning — 

247 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

"At  first  faint  gleaming  in  the  dappled  East 
.  .  .  Young  day  pours  in  apace, 
And  opens  all  the  lawny  prospect  wide, 
The  dripping  rock,  the  mountain's  misty  tops 
Swell  on  the  sight,  and  brighten  with  the  dawn, 
Blue  through  the  dusk  the  smoking  currents  shine," 

or 

"The  clouds  that  pass, 
For  ever  flushing  round  a  summer  sky  " ; 

or  the  rainbow  in  the  Lines  to  the  Memory  oj 
Sir  Isaac  Newton?  Dyer  may  be  somewhat 
prosaic,  but  he  is  not  a  poet  to  be  despatched  in 
a  treatise  on  descriptive  poetry,  without  citation, 
in  a  few  contemptuous  lines  :  how  vivid  is  his 
picture  of  a  calm  in  the  tropics  ! — 

"  The  dewy  feather,  on  the  cordage  hung, 
Moves  not ;  the  flat  sea  shines,  like  yellow  gold 
Fused  in  the  fire  " ; 

or  his 

"  Rocks  in  ever-wild 
Posture  of  falling  "  ; 

or  the  charming  landscape  in'  Grongar  Hill  with 
such  touches  as  these  : 

"  The  windy  summit  wild  and  high 
Roughly  rushing  on  the  sky  "  ; 

or 

"  Rushing  from  the  woods  the  spires 
Seem  from  hence  ascending  fires." 

As  Wordsworth  said,  "Dyer's  beauties  are  in- 
numerable and  of  a  high  order."  It  is  very  sur- 
prising  that   nothing    should    have    been    said 

248 


LANDSCAPE   IN   POETRY 

about  Shenstone  and  the  Wartons,  about  Scott  of 
Amwoll,  Jago,  Crowe  and  Bowles,  all  of  whom  are, 
in  various  ways,  remarkable  as  descriptive  poets. 
And  certainly  Mr.  Palgrave  does  scant  justice  to 
Cowper ;  his  touch  may  be  prosaic,  but  he  always 
had  his  eye  on  the  object,  and  his  landscape 
lives.  Surely,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Palgrave  is  mis- 
taken in  supposing  that  Shelley  apparently 
understood  Alastor  to  mean  a  "  wanderer  "  ;  he 
understood  it,  as  the  preface  shows,  to  mean, 
what  it  means  so  often  in  Greek,  "  one  under  the 
spell  of  an  avenging  deity." 

Here  we  must  break  off.  Mr.  Palgrave's  is  an 
important  work,  and  it  is  the  duty,  therefore,  of 
a  critic  to  review  it  seriously,  in  the  hope  that, 
should  it  reach  a  second  edition,  which  may  be 
confidently  anticipated,  Mr.  Palgrave  may  be 
disposed  to  do  a  little  more  justice  to  his  most 
interesting  subject. 

Since  this  article  was  written  Mr.  Palgrave's  lamented 
death  has  unhappily  rendered  all  hope  of  what  was  antici- 
pated in  the  last  paragraph,  vain.  But  the  review  has  been 
reprinted,  and  with  some  additions,  in  the  hope  that  it  may 
not  be  unacceptable  as  a  contribution,  however  slight  and 
imperfect,  to  a  subject  of  great  interest  to  lovers  of  poetry. 


249 


AN  APPRECIATION  OF  PROFESSOR 
PALGRAVE 

A  FAMILIAR  figure  in  literary  circles,  a  fine 
critic,  a  graceful  and  scholarly  minor 
poet,  and  one  whose  name  will  long  be  held  in 
affectionate  remembrance  by  lovers  of  English 
poetry,  has  passed  away  in  the  person  of  Francis 
Turner  Palgrave.  It  would  be  absurd  to  place 
him  beside  Matthew  Arnold — to  whose  genius,  to 
whose  characteristic  accomplishments,  to  whoso 
authority  and  influence,  he  had  no  pretension. 
And  yet  it  may  be  questioned  whether,  after 
Arnold,  any  other  critic  of  our  time  contributed 
so  much  to  educate  public  taste  where,  in  this 
country,  it  most  needs  such  education.  If,  as  a 
nurse  of  poets  and  in  poetic  achievement,  England 
stands  second  to  no  nation  in  Europe,  in  no 
nation  in  the  world  has  the  standard  of  popular 
taste  been  so  low,  has  the  insensibility  to  what 
is  excellent,  and  the  perverse  preference  of  what 
is  mediocre  to  what  is  of  the  first  order,  been  so 
signally,  so  deplorably,  conspicuous.  The  gene- 
ration which  produced  Wordsworth  preferred 
Moore,  and  no  less  a  person  than  the  author 
of    Vanity    Fair    wrote : — "  Old    daddy  Words- 

250 


PROFESSOR  PALGRAVE 

worth  may  bless  his  stars  if  he  ever  gets  high 
enough  in  Heaven  to  black  Tommy  Moore's 
boots."  While  the  readers  of  Keats  might  have 
been  numbered  on  his  fingers,  Robert  Mont- 
gomery's Satan  and  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity 
were  going  through  their  twelfth  editions. 
During  many  years,  for  ten  readers  of  Brown- 
ing's poems  there  were  a  hundred  thousand 
for  Martin  Tupper's  Proverbial  Philosophy ,  while 
the  popularity  of  Mrs.  Browning  was  as  a  wan 
shadow  to  the  meridian  splendour  of  Eliza 
Cook.  Whoever  will  turn  to  the  criticism  of 
current  reviews  and  magazines  forty  years  ago 
will  have  no  difficulty  in  understanding  the 
diathesis  described  by  Matthew  Arnold  as  "  on 
the  side  of  beauty  and  taste,  vulgarity ;  on  the 
side  of  morality  and  feeling,  coarseness ;  on  the 
side  of  mind  and  spirit,  unintelligence."  Who- 
ever will  turn  to  nine  out  of  the  ten  Antho- 
logies, most  in  vogue  before  1861,  will  under- 
stand, that  the  same  instinct  which  in  the  Dark 
Ages  led  man  to  prefer  Sodulius  and  Avitus  to 
Catullus  and  Horace,  Statius  to  Virgil,  and 
Hroswitha  to  Terence,  led  these  editors  to  ana- 
logous  selections. 

Making  every  allowance  for  the  co-operation 
of  other  causes,  it  would  hardly  be  an  exagge- 
ration to  say  that  the  appearance  of  the  Golden 
Treasury  of  Songs  and  LyHcs  in  1861  initiated 
an  era  in  popular  tciste.  It  remains  now  in- 
comparably  the    best    selection  of   its  kind   in 

251 


AN   APPRECIATION   OF 

existence.  Its  distinctive  feature  is  the  charac- 
tistic  which  differentiates  it  from  all  the  antho- 
logies which  preceded  or  have  followed  it.  It  was 
to  include  nothing  which  was  not  first-rate ; 
there  was  to  be  no  compromise  with  the  second- 
rate  ;  if  its  gems  varied,  as  gems  do  in  value, 
each  was  to  be  of  the  first  water.  With  patient 
and  scrupulous  diligence,  the  whole  body  of 
English  poetry,  from  Surrey  to  Wordsworth,  was 
explored  and  sifted.  After  due  rejections,  each 
piece  in  the  residue  was  considered,  weighed, 
tested.  And  here  Mr.  Palgrave  had  assistance, 
more  invaluable  than  any  other  anthologist  in 
the  world  has  had — that  of  the  illustrious  poet 
to  whom  the  volume  was  dedicated.  It  may  be 
safely  said  of  Tennyson  that  nature  and  culture 
had  qualified  him  for  being  as  great  a  critic  as 
he  was  a  poet.  His  taste  was  probably  infallible ; 
his  touchstones  and  standards  were  derived  not 
merely  from  the  masters  who  had  taught  him 
his  own  art,  but  from  a  wonderfully  catholic  and 
sympathetic  communion  with  all  that  was  best 
in  every  sphere  of  influential  artistic  activity. 
The  consequence  is,  that  a  book  like  the  Golden 
Treasury,  especially  when  taken  in  conjunction 
with  the  notes,  which  form  an  admirable  com- 
mentary on  the  text,  may  be  said  to  lay  some- 
thing more  than  the  foundation  of  a  sound 
critical  education.  What  the  Golden  Treasury 
is  to  readers  of  a  maturer  age  the  Children's 
Treasury  is  to  younger  readers.     It  is  a  great 

252 


PROFESSOR  PALGRAVE 

pity  that  such  inferior  works  as  many  which  we 
could  name  are  allowed,  in  our  schools,  to  sup- 
plant such  a  work  as  Palgrave's.  The  same  ex- 
quisite taste  and  nice  discernment  mark  his  other 
anthologies,  his  selections  from  Herrick,  and 
Tennyson,  and,  though  perhaps  in  a  less  degree, 
his  Treasury  of  English  Sacred  Poetry,  and 
his  recently  published  supplement  to  the  Golden 
Treasury.  It  is  probably  impossible  to  over- 
estimate the  salutary  influence  which  these 
works  have  exercised. 

There  is  no  arguing  on  matters  of  taste,  and 
exception  might  easily  be  taken,  sometimes,  to  his 
dicta  as  a  critic.  But  this  at  least  must  be  con- 
ceded by  everybody,  that  in  the  best  and  most 
comprehensive  sense  of  the  term  he  was  a  man 
of  classical  temper,  taste,  and  culture,  and  that 
ho  had  all  the  insight  and  discernment,  all  the 
instincts  and  sympathies,  which  are  the  result  of 
such  qualifications.  He  had  no  taint  of  vulgarity, 
of  charlatanism,  of  insincerity.  He  never  talked 
or  wrote  the  cant  of  the  cliques  or  of  the  multi- 
tude. He  understood  and  clung  to  what  was 
excellent ;  he  had  no  toleration  for  what  was 
common  and  second  rate ;  he  was  not  of  the 
crowd.  He  belonged  to  the  same  type  of  men 
as  Matthew  Arnold  and  William  Cory,  a  tj^e 
peculiar  to  our  old  Universities  before  things 
took  the  turn  which  they  are  taking  now.  It 
will  be  long  before  we  shall  have  such  critics 
again,  and  their  loss  is  incalculable. 

253 


PROFESSOR  PALGRAVE 

As  a  scholar  Palgrave  was  rather  elegant 
than  profound  or  exact,  and,  to  judge  from  a 
series  of  lectures  delivered  by  him  as  Professor 
of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  on  Landscape  in  Classical 
Poetry,  and  afterwards  published  in  a  work 
which  is  here  reviewed,  his  acquaintance  with 
the  Greek  and  Roman  poets  was,  if  scholarly 
and  sympathetic,  somewhat  superficial.  But  he 
was  getting  old,  and  perhaps  he  had  lost  his 
memory  or  his  notes.  As  a  poet  he  was  the 
author  of  four  volumes,  the  earliest,  published 
in  1864,  entitled  Idylls  and  Songs,  and  the 
latest,  published  in  1892,  Amenophis ;  and  other 
Poems.  But  his  most  ambitious  effort  appeared 
in  1882,  Visions  of  England,  written  with  the 
laudable  purpose  of  stirring  up  in  the  young 
the  spirit  of  patriotism.  His  poetry  may  be 
described,  not  inaptly,  in  the  sentence  in  which 
Dr.  Johnson  sums  up  the  characteristics  of 
Addison's  verses : — "  Polished  and  pure,  the 
production  of  a  mind  too  judicious  to  commit 
faults,  but  not  sufficiently  vigorous  to  attain 
excellence."  Perhaps  they  served  their  end  in 
procuring  for  him  the  honourable  appointment 
which  he  filled  competently  for  ten  years — that 
of  the  Professorship  of  Poetry  at  Oxford.  It 
may  be  said  of  him  as  was  said  of  Southey,  he 
was  a  good  man  and  not  a  bad  poet,  or  of 
Agricola,  decentior  quam  sublimior  fuit.  But 
as  a  critic  of  Belles  Lettres  he  was  excellent. 


254 


ANCIENT   GREEK   AND   MODERN 
LIFE^ 

THAT  a  second  edition  of  Professor  Butcher's 
essays  on  Some  Aspects  of  the  Chreek  Genius 
should  have  been  called  for  so  soon  is  assuredly 
a  very  significant  fact.  And  it  is  significant  in 
more  ways  than  one.  It  not  only  goes  far  to 
refute  Lord  Coleridge's  theory  that  Greek  has 
lost  its  hold  on  modern  life,  but  it  furnishes  one 
of  the  many  proofs,  which  we  have  recently  had, 
that  people  are  beginning  to  understand  what  is 
now  to  be  expected  from  classical  scholars,  if 
classical  scholars  are  to  hold  their  own  in  the 
world  of  to-day,  and  that  scholars  are,  in  their 
turn,  aware  that  they  no  longer  constitute  an 
esoteric  guild  for  esoteric  studies.  The  task  of 
the  purely  philological  labourer  has  been  accom- 
plished. During  more  than  four  centuries,  suc- 
ceeding schools  of  literal  critics  have  been  toiling 
to  furnish  mankind  with  the  moans  of  unlocking 
the  treasures  of   classical   Greece.      Till  within 

'  Some  Aspects  of  the  Greek  Genius.    By  S.  H.  Butcher, 
Litt.  D.,  LL.D.    Loudon. 

255 


ANCIENT   GREEK  AND 

comparatively  recent  times,  the  power  of  read- 
ing the  Greek  classics  with  accuracy  and  ease 
was  an  accomplishment  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
but  specialists.  Unless  a  student  was  prepared 
to  grapple  with  the  difficulties  of  unsettled  and 
often  unintelligible  texts,  to  make  his  own  gram- 
mar— nay,  his  own  dictionary — to  choose  be- 
tween conflicting  and  contradictory  interpreta- 
tions, and,  in  a  word,  to  possess  all  that  now 
would  be  required  in  a  classical  editor,  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  read,  with  any  comfort, 
a  chorus  of  jEschylus  or  Sophocles,  an  ode  of 
Pindar,  or  a  speech  in  Thucydides.  But  now  all 
these  difficulties  have  vanished.  Excellent  lexi- 
cons, granmiars,  commentaries,  and  translations, 
with  settled  texts,  and  editions  of  the  principal 
Greek  classics  so  satisfactory  that  practically 
they  leave  nothing  to  be  desired,  have  rendered 
what  was  once  the  monopoly  of  mere  scholars 
conmion  property.  The  power  of  reading  Greek 
with  accuracy  and  comfort  is  now,  indeed,  within 
the  reach  of  any  person  of  average  intelligence 
and  industry. 

But  prescription  and  tradition  are  tenacious  of 
their  privileges.  Greek  has  so  long  been  re- 
garded as  the  inheritance  of  philologists,  that 
they  are  not  prepared  to  resign  what  was  once 
their  exclusive  possession,  without  a  struggle.  It 
is  useless  to  point  out  to  them  that,  if  Greek  is 
to  maintain  its  place  in  modern  education,  it  can 
only   maintain    it   by   virtue   of    its   connection 

256 


MODERN   LIFE 

with  the  humanities,  by  virtue  of  its  intrinsic 
value  as  the  expression  of  genius  and  art, 
and  of  its  historical  value  as  the  key  to  the 
development  and  characteristics  of  the  classics 
of  the  modern  world  ;  by  virtue,  in  fine,  of  its 
relation  to  life,  and  its  relation  to  History  and 
Criticism.  The  revival,  indeed,  of  the  trivium 
and  qtutdrivium  of  the  Middle  Ages  would  not 
be  an  absurder  anachronism  than  it  is  to  draw 
no  distinction  between  the  functions  and  aims  of 
classical  scholarship,  when  it  was,  necessarily, 
confined  to  philologists  and  specialists,  and  its 
functions  and  aims  at  the  present  day.  It  has 
been  the  obstinate  determination  on  the  part  of 
academic  bodies  not  to  recognise  this  distinction, 
but  to  preserve  Greek  as  the  monopoly  of  those 
who  approach  it  only  on  the  side  of  philological 
specialism,  which  has  led  to  its  complete  dis- 
sociation in  our  scholastic  system  from  what 
constitutes  its  chief,  almost  its  sole  title  to  pre- 
servation. At  Cambridge,  for  example,  it  has 
been  expressly  excluded  from  the  only  School  in 
which  the  study  of  Literature  has  been  organ- 
ized, and  an  attempt  to  substitute  Modern 
Languages  in  its  place — for  a  degree  in  arts — 
was  only  defeated  by  the  intervention  of  non- 
resident members  of  the  University.  At  Oxford 
a  scheme  for  a  "  School  of  Literature,"  in  which 
Greek  was  to  have  no  place,  might,  not  long  ago 
have  been  carried,  and  the  casting  vote  of  the 
proctor  alone  saved  the  University  from  this 
E.C.  257  B 


ANCIENT   GREEK  AND 

disgrace,  and  Greek  from  a  crushing  blow.^  But, 
fortunately  for  the  cause  of  Greek,  there  is  every 
indication  that  a  reaction,  too  strong  for  acade- 
mic bodies  to  resist,  is  setting  in.  Scholars  are 
beginning  to  see  that  what  Socrates  did  for  Philo- 
sophy must  now  be  done  for  Greek,  if  Greek  is 
to  hold  its  own.  Thus,  it  has  preserved,  and  no 
doubt  may  preserve,  its  esoteric  side ;  but  that 
which  constitutes  its  chief,  its  real  importance — 
which  justifies  its  retention  in  modern  education 
— is  not  what  appeals,  and  can  only  appeal,  in 
each  generation,  to  a  small  circle  of  "  specialists  " 
— its  philological  interest,  but  what  appeals  to 
liberal  intelligence,  to  men  as  men,  to  the  poet, 
to  the  philosopher,  to  the  orator,  to  the  critic. 
To  this  end,  to  what  may  be  described  as  the 
vitalization  of  Greek,  all  the  labours  of  the 
late  Professor  Jowett  were  directed ;  and  by 
his  means  Plato,  Thucydides,  and  Aristotle  are 
brought  into  influential  relation  with  modern 
life.  What  he  effected  for  them  Professor  Jebb 
has  effected  for  Sophocles,  and  not  only  has  this 
unrivalled  Greek  scholar  placed  within  the  reach 
of  any  person  of  average  intelligence  all  that  is 
necessary  for  the  elucidation  of  the  language, 
art,  and  philosophy  of  the  Shakespeare  of  the 
Athenian  stage,  but  he  has  not  disdained  to  fur- 
nish a  popular  manual  of  Homeric  study,  and  a 
popular  elementary  guide-book  to  Greek  litera- 

*  This  blow  has,  since  these  words  were  written,  been 
Inflicted.    See  supra  pp.  45-75. 

258 


MODERN   LIFE 

ture.  Professor  Lewis  Campbell  has  laboured 
in  the  same  field  and  in  the  same  cause.  Great 
also  have  been  the  services  rendered  to  the 
popularization  of  Greek  by  Mr.  Andrew  Lang, 
Mr.  Ernest  Myers,  Mr.  Walter  Leaf,  and  many 
other  distinguished  scholars,  all  of  whom  have 
shown,  both  by  their  published  works  and  as 
lecturers,  that  the  masterpieces  of  ancient  Greece 
may  become  as  intelligible  and  influential  in  the 
world  of  to-day  as  they  wore  more  than  two 
thousand  years  ago. 

We  welcome  with  joy  the  advent  of  Professor 
Butcher  among  these  prophets.  Few  names 
stand  higher  than  his  in  the  roll  of  modern 
scholars,  and  assuredly  few  modern  scholars 
possess,  in  so  large  a  measure,  the  power  of 
applying  scholarship  to  the  purposes  of  liberal 
criticism  and  exegesis.  He  has  written  a  delight- 
ful book,  in  a  pleasant  style,  full  of  learning, 
suggestive,  stimulating,  a  book  which  no  student 
of  Greek  literature  can  lay  down  without  a 
hearty  feeling  of  gratitude  to  the  author.  Porson 
said  of  Bentley  that  more  might  be  learned  from 
his  work  when  he  was  in  error  than  from  the 
work  of  a  rival  scholar  when  he  was  in  the 
right.  We  shall  not  presume  to  accuse  Professor 
Butcher  of  error,  but  we  are  bound  to  say  that 
there  is  much  in  his  book  which  appears  to  us 
very  questionable,  and  much  also  from  which  we 
entirely  dissent. 

Professor  Butcher  discusses,  for  example,  at 
259 


ANCIENT   GREEK  AND 

great  length,  the  leading  characteristics  of  the 
Greek  temper,  but,  in  drawing  his  conclusions, 
he  has  not  sufficiently  distinguished  between 
what  was  more  or  less  accidental  and  what 
was  essentially  peculiar.  The  fact  is  that  no- 
thing is  so  easy  as  generalisations  of  this  kind, 
if  the  deduction  of  half  truth  be  our  aim  ;  and 
nothing  so  difficult  if  whole  truth,  or  truth  which 
may  be  accepted  without  reserve,  is  to  be  the 
result.  The  most  mobile,  plastic.  Protean  people 
who  have  ever  lived,  their  activity,  within  the 
strict  limits  of  classical  literature,  extended  over 
about  six  centuries,  and,  if  we  protract  it  to 
the  point  included  in  Professor  Butcher's  illus- 
trations, to  more  than  nine  centuries.  Of  their 
literature,  though  we  appear  to  have  the  best 
of  it,  not  a  third  part  has  survived.  By  an  adroit 
use  of  illustration,  it  is,  therefore,  easy  to  pre- 
dicate anything  of  them.  Go  to  serious  epic,  to 
serious  as  distinguished  from  passionate  lyric, 
to  tragedy,  to  threnody,  and  they  were,  if  you 
please,  the  gravest  people  on  earth's  face  ;  go 
to  Aristophanes  and  to  the  poets  of  the  Old 
Comedy,  and  they  were  the  merriest ;  go  to  the 
Ionic  Elegists  and  to  the  fragments  of  the  New 
Comedy,  and  they  were  the  saddest  and  most 
cynical ;  go  to  Thucydides,  Plato,  and  Aristotle, 
and  they  were,  like  Dante's  sages,  ni  tristi 
ni  lieti.  We  do  not  quarrel  with  Professor 
Butcher's  general  position  in  his  Essay  on  the 
melancholy   of    the    Greeks,   or    question    that 

260 


MODERN   LIFE 

there  existed  in  certain  moods  a  profound 
melancholy  and  dissatisfaction  with  life  in  the 
Greek  temper.  But  of  what  intelligent  and 
reflective  people  or  individual  who  have  ever 
existed  is  this  not  equaUy  true?  Where  we 
do  quarrel  with  Professor  Butcher  is  on  the 
following  point,  the  point  on  which  he  chiefly 
rests  in  proving  that  the  Greeks  were  pre- 
eminently distinguished  by  pessimistic  melan- 
choly— an  assertion  that  we  deny  in  toto.  He 
tells  us  that,  with  one  notable  exception,  to  which 
he  subsequently  adds  three  others,  the  Greeks 
regarded  hope  not  as  a  solace  and  support  in 
life,  but  as  a  snare  and  a  delusion,  not  as  a 
power  to  cling  to,  but  as  an  influence  fraught  with 
mischief.  Nothing  surely  can  be  more  erroneous. 
The  wisest  people  who  have  ever  lived  are  not 
likely  to  have  confounded  baseless  and  flighty 
desires  or  aspirations  with  what  is  implied  in 
hope,  though  Professor  Butcher  has  done  so  in 
the  illustrations  advanced  by  him  in  support  of 
his  theory.  All  through  Greek  literature,  from 
Hesiod  to  Theocritus — not  to  go  further — the 
importance  and  wisdom  of  cherishing  hope,  as 
one  of  the  chief  supports  of  life,  are  emphatically 
dwelt  on.  Professor  Butcher  has  surely  mis- 
represented— certainly  ^schylus  and  the  Greeks 
generally  did  not  interpret  it  in  the  sense  in 
which  he  has  done — the  fable  of  Pandora's  chest. 
It  was  not  "  as  part  of  the  deadly  gift  of  the 
goddess  "  that  hope  was  there  ;  it  was  as  the  one 

261 


ANCIENT   GREEK  AND 

blessing  amid  the  crowd  of  ills.  "  As  long  as  a 
man  lives,"  says  Theognis^  "  let  him  wait  on 
hope.  .  .  .  Let  him  pray  to  the  gods  ;  and  to 
Hope  let  him  sacrifice  first  and  last"  (1143- 
1146).  Pindar,  if  he  warns  man  against  base- 
less, wild,  or  extravagant  expectation,  is  em- 
phatic on  the  wisdom  of  cherishing  hope.  It  is 
"the  sweet  nurse  of  the  heart  in  old  age,"  "  the 
chief  helmsman  of  man's  versatile  will."  {Frag- 
ment, 233.)  "A  man  should  cherish  good  hope." 
{Tsth.,  vii.  15.)  "  It  is  the  wing  on  which  soar- 
ing manhood  is  supported."  (Pythian,  viii.  93.) 
"  The  wise,"  says  Euripides,  "  must  cherish 
hope."  {Frag,  of  Ino.)  Again  :  "  Prudent  hope 
must  be  your  stay  in  misfortune."  {Id.)  Life, 
he  says  in  the  Troades  (628),  is  preferable  to 
death,  in  that  it  has  hopes.  A  sentiment  re- 
peated by  Euripides  again  in  the  Hercules 
Furens  (105-6)  :  "  That  man  is  the  bravest  who 
trusts  to  hope  under  all  circumstances ;  to  be 
without  hope  is  the  part  of  a  coward."  So 
Menander :  "  Hold  before  yourself  the  shield  of 
good  hope."  {Incert.  Frag,  xlvii.)  The  pas- 
sages quoted  by  Professor  Butcher  from  Thu- 
cydides  are  not  to  the  point.  It  would  have 
been  much  more  to  the  point  had  he  quoted 
the  passage  in  which  Pericles  eulogizes  those 
who  "  committed  to  hope  the  uncertainty  of 
success"  (II.  42),  or  the  passage  (I.  70)  in 
which  the  superiority  of  the  Athenians  to  the 
Lacedaemonians  in  civil  and   military  efficiency 

262 


MODERN   LIFE 

is  largely  attributed  to  their  reliance  on  hope. 
Again,  what,  according  to  Cephalus,  in  the 
Republic,  is  the  chief  solace  of  old  age  ? — 
"  The  abiding  presence  of  sweet  hope."  But  it 
would  be  easy  to  multiply  indefinitely  from  the 
Greek  classics  what  Professor  Butcher  calls 
"  rare  examples  of  hope  in  the  happier  aspect." 

The  most  important  chapters  in  Professor 
Butcher's  work — indeed  they  occupy  nearly  one 
half  of  it — are  those  dealing  with  Aristotle's 
theory  of  fine  art  and  poetry.  On  no  subject 
in  criticism  have  there  been  so  many  miscon- 
ceptions current  and  influential  even  among 
scholars,  originating  for  the  most  part  from  mis- 
translations and  misunderstandings  of  the  trea- 
tise in  which  they  find  their  chief  embodiment — 
the  Poetics.  This  has  unfortunately  come  down 
to  us  in  a  very  imperfect  and  corrupt  state,  and, 
what  is  more  unfortunate  still,  it  became  a  classic 
in  criticism  long  before  it  was  properly  under- 
stood. Thus,  in  the  clause  in  the  famous  definition 
of  tragedy,  where  Aristotle  describes  it  as  St'  iKkov 
Kol  <f>6^ov  trepaivovtra  Tr)v  rdv  roiovrtou  Tradrj^idrciv 
Kudapaiv, "  through  pity  and  fear  efiFecting  the  pur- 
gation of  these  emotions,"  the  French  and  English 
critics  of  the  seventeenth  and  eight^nth  cen- 
turies, ignoring  the  words  r(ov  Toiovrtov,  have 
totally  misinterpreted  the  passage,  and  given  it 
a  meaning  which  was  not  only  not  intended  by 
Aristotle,  but  which  has  falsified  his  whole 
theory  of  the  scope  and  functions  of   tragedy. 

263 


ANCIENT  GREEK  AND 

An  unsound  text,  the  insertion  of  aWd  before 
the  clause,  sent  Lessing  on  a  wrong  track.  From 
the  misinterpretation  of  another  passage  in  the 
treatise  (V.  4)  has  been  deduced  the  famous 
doctrine  of  the  Unities.  The  mistranslation  of 
o-TTouSato?  in  the  definition  of  Tragedy,  and  of 
the  same  word  in  the  comparison  between 
Poetry  and  History,  has  led  to  misconceptions 
on  other  points.  The  scholars  who  did  most 
in  England  to  place  the  study  of  this  treatise 
on  a  sound  footing  were  Twining  and  Tyrwhitt. 
In  the  present  century  it  has  received  exhaustive 
illustration  from  Saint-Hilaire,  Stahr,  Susemihl, 
Vahlen,  Teichmiiller,  Ueberweg,  Reinkens,  Jacob 
Bernays,  and  others ;  while  such  works  as  E. 
Miiller's  Geschichte  der  Theorie  der  Kunst  hei  den 
Alien  have  thrown  general  light  on  the  question 
of  Greek  aesthetics.  That  Professor  Butcher  has 
not  been  able  to  advance  anything  new  in  these 
essays  is  very  creditable  to  him,  for  the  simple 
reason  that,  as  all  that  is  worth  saying  has  been 
said,  his  sole  resource,  had  he  attempted  to  be 
original,  would  have  been  paradox  and  sophistry. 
With  regard  to  the  question  of  the  Katharsis, 
it  will  probably  be,  for  all  time,  a  case  of  *'  quot 
homines  tot  sententiae  "  ;  and  we  have  certainly 
no  intention  of  accompanying  Professor  Butcher 
into  this  labyrinth.  We  entirely  agree  with 
him  and  Bernays  that  the  passage  in  the  Politics 
(V.  viii.  7)  settles  conclusively  at  least  one  part 
of    the  meaning,   but  we  differ  from   Bernays, 

204 


MODERN  LIFE 

in  contending  that  the  "  lustratio  "  is  included, 
and  from  Professor  Butcher,  in  contending  that 
the  "  lustratio  "  is  not  effected  merely  by  the  re- 
lief. Professor  Butcher  seems  here  indeed  to  be 
a  little  confused,  or  at  all  events  confusing.  He 
first  explains  "katharsis"  as  "a  purging  away  of 
the  emotions  of  pity  and  fear,"  and  then  explains 
it  as  "a  purifying  of  them  " ;  but  it  is  neither 
easy  to  understand  how  "  purging  away "  is 
"  purifying,"  nor  why  we  should  "  purify  "  what 
we  "  purge  away."  Surely  it  is  better — but  we 
speak  with  all  submission — to  take  the  word 
in  two  different  meanings,  the  one  signifying 
the  immediate  effect  of  tragedy  in  its  direct 
appeal  to  the  passions  referred  to,  the  other 
not  to  its  immediate,  but  to  its  ulterior  and 
total  effect  in  educating  the  passions  thus  ex- 
cited. 

Professor  Butcher,  who  appears  to  belong  to 
the  Pater  School,  dwells  with  great  complacency 
on  the  fact  that  Aristotle  "attempted  to  sepa- 
rate the  function  of  sesthetics  from  that  of 
morals,"  that  "  he  made  the  end  of  art  reside 
in  a  pleasurable  emotion,"  that  he  says  "nothing 
of  any  moral  aim  in  poetry,"  and  that  though 
he  often  takes  exception  to  Euripides  as  an  artist, 
"  he  attaches  no  blame  to  him  for  the  immoral 
tendency  in  some  of  his  dramas,"  so  severely 
censured  by  Aristophanes.  If  Professor  Butcher 
implies,  as  he  seems  to  imply  by  this,  that 
Aristotle    would    lend   any  countenance  to    the 

265 


ANCIENT  GREEK  AND 

modem  art -for -art's -sake  doctrine,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  the  assumption  that  there  was  no 
necessary  connection  between  aesthetics  and 
morals,  he  does  Aristotle  very  great  injustice, 
and  is  refuted  by  the  Poetics  themselves.  In 
the  fifth  chapter  Aristotle  lays  stress  on  the 
fact  that  tragedy  is,  like  epic,  a  representation 
of  "  superior  or  morally  good  characters " 
{fiifi7)<Ti<i  aiTovhaCmv) — that  the  characters  are  to 
be  good  (%/3»7crTa).  In  the  twenty-fifth  chapter 
he  says  that  nothing  can  excuse  the  exhibition 
of  moral  depravity  {fioxOrjpia),  unless  it  be  one 
of  the  things  implicit  in  the  plot ;  and  that 
among  the  most  serious  objections  which  can  be 
brought  against  a  drama  is  that  it  is  likely  to 
do  moral  harm  {^Xa^epd).  In  the  thirteenth 
chapter  he  shows, — and  on  moral  grounds, — why 
the  protagonist  in  a  tragedy  should  not  be  a 
perfectly  good  man  or  a  perfectly  bad  man. 
Indeed,  the  very  definition  of  tragedy  refutes 
Professor  Butcher's  statement.  It  may  be  said, 
no  doubt,  that  Aristotle  maintains  that  the  end 
of  poetry  is  pleasure,  but  it  must  be  "  the  proper 
pleasure,"  and  in  the  proper  pleasure  moral 
satisfaction  is  implied.^  It  is  only  by  a  quibble 
that  Professor  Butcher's  theory  can  be  supported, 
and  it  is  a  pity   to  quibble  on  subjects  which 

*  So  he  says,  Poet.,  xxvi.,  of  epic  and  tragedj'',  that  each 
ought  not  to  produce  any  chance  pleasure,  but  the  pleasure 
proper  to  it  (Set  yhp  ov  Tr}i>  rvxovtrav  ■fjSovrji'  iroTeiy  auras  dXXA  tV 
fiprjujyrjf,  i.e.  olKeiav). 

266 


MODERN  LIFE 

may  be  so  mischievously  misunderstood.  Aris- 
totle was,  we  suspect,  very  much  nearer  to 
Ben  Jonson  and  Milton  than  to  Mr.  Pater  in  his 
conception  of  the  functions  and  scope  of  poetry. 
In  the  interesting  essay  on  Sophocles  there 
are  two  statements  which  appear  to  us  very 
questionable.  It  is  surely  not  true  to  say  that 
Sophocles  was  "  the  first  of  the  Greeks  who  has 
clearly  realized  that  suffering  is  not  always 
penal."  Who  could  have  expressed  this  truth 
more  forcibly  than  ^schylus  ?  To  say  nothing 
of  the  well-known  passage  in  the  Agamemnon, 
167-171 :— 

Zrjva     .      .      . 

Tov  (f>pove7v  PpoTovs  obaxravra,  t6v  irddti  fidOos 

6(VTa  Kvp'ioii  fx^t"' 

ordfft  S*  (V  6'  vTTvco  rrp6  Kopbias 

fxvTfarirnjfjiav  noyos,  koI  nap'  uKovras  rjXBe  aux^povfiv, — 

the  doctrine  of  which  is  repeated  in  241-2  of 
the  same  play,  and  in  other  passages  in  his 
dramas,  notably  in  Choephoroe,  950-955,  and  in 
Eumenides,  495,  a-vficfyepet  aaxfypovelv  vrrb  arevei. 
The  fact  that  suffering  and  calamity  have  re- 
sulted in  blessing  is  emphasized  as  strongly  in 
the  concluding  drama  of  the  Orestean  Trilogy, 
the  Eumenides,  as  it  is  in  the  (Edipus  Coloneus. 
Again,  when  Professor  Butcher  says  that  '*  in 
Sophocles  the  divine  righteousness  asserts  itself 
not  in  the  award  of  happiness  or  misery  to  the 
individual,  but  in  the  providential  wisdom  which 
assigns  to  each  individual  his  place  and  function 

267 


ANCIENT   GREEK  AND 

in  a  universal  moral  order,"  he  says  what  it  is 
very  difficult  to  understand.  Surely  in  the  case 
of  each  one  of  the  protagonists  in  Sophocles, 
to  employ  the  word  in  its  non-technical  sense, 
their  deserts  are  very  exactly  meted  out.  Anti- 
gone deliberately  courts  her  fate  by  setting  the 
law  at  defiance,  though  she  knew  what  the 
penalty  was,  and  falls,  but  has  her  compensation 
in  the  applause  of  her  own  conscience  and  "  in 
the  faith  that  looks  through  death."  Ajax 
paid  the  penalty,  as  the  poet  emphasizes,  for 
brutality  and  impious  insolence ;  CEdipus  suffers 
for  his  impetuosity  and  intemperance,  but,  his 
punishment  exceeding  the  offence,  the  balance 
is  adjusted  for  him  in  final  triumph  over  the 
sons  who  had  wronged  him,  in  procuring 
blessings  for  his  protector,  in  the  peace  of  the 
soul,  and  in  a  glorious  death.  Clytemnestra 
and  -<Egisthus  well  deserve  their  fate,  as,  in 
addition  to  committing  their  crime,  they  con- 
tinue ostentatiously  to  glory  in  it.  In  the 
Trachinice  Hercules  is  punished  for  a  base 
and  cowardly  murder,  followed  by  an  act  of 
cruel  and  indiscriminate  vengeance,  retribution 
coming  on  him  through  the  sister  of  the  man 
thus  murdered,  and  the  daughter  of  the  prince 
on  whom  this  iniquitous  vengeance  had  been 
wreaked,  as  Deianeira,  but  for  lole,  would  not 
have  sent  the  poisoned  tunic.  Sophocles  has 
even  altered  the  legend  to  emphasize  the  guilt 
of  Hercules.     The  Philoctetes,  indeed,  is  the  only 

268 


MODERN   LIFE 

play  which  lends  any  support  to  Professor  But- 
cher's statement.  Here  the  gods  undoubtedly 
condemn  a  man  to  a  life  of  torture  that  their 
designs,  irrespective  of  the  individual,  may  be 
fulfilled,  and  that  Troy  may  not  fall  before  the 
appointed  time ;  but  how  fully,  how  nobly  is  he 
compensated !  It  seems  to  us  that  the  award 
of  happiness  and  misery  to  the  individual,  in 
accordance  with  desert,  is  as  conspicuous  in  the 
ethics  of  Sophocles  as  it  is  in  the  ethics  of 
Shakespeare.  And  it  is  the  more  conspicuous, 
when  we  remember  the  hampering  conditions 
under  which  Sophocles  had  to  work,  the  limita- 
tions conventionally  imposed  on  the  treatment 
of  the  legends. 

We  wish  wo  had  space  to  comment  on  Pro- 
fessor Butcher's  admirable,  though  somewhat 
defective,  chapter  on  the  dawn  of  Romanticism 
in  Greek  poetry,  but  we  must  forbear,  and 
repeat  our  thanks  to  him  for  a  book  full  of 
interest  and  instruction,  not  the  least  of  its 
charms  being  the  lively  and  graceful  style  in 
which  it  is  written. 


269 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM^ 

BISHOP  WARBURTON  said  that  there  were 
two  things  which  every  man  thought  him- 
self competent  to  do,  to  manage  a  small  farm 
and  to  drive  a  whisky.  Had  Warburton  lived 
in  our  time,  he  would  probably  have  added  a 
third — to  set  up  for  a  critic.  What  the  author 
of  the  best  critical  treatise  in  the  Greek  language 
pronounced  to  be  the  final  fruit  of  long  experi- 
ence, culture,  and  study,  directed  and  illumined 
by  certain  natural  qualifications,  has  now  come 
to  be  represented  by  the  idle  and  irresponsible 
gossip  of  any  one  who  can  gossip  agreeably. 
Agreeable  gossip  and  good  criticism  are,  as 
Sainte-Beuve  and  others  have  shown,  far 
from  being  incompatible,  the  misfortune  is  that 
they  should  be  confounded ;  but  confounded 
they  are,  and  the  confusion  is  the  curse  of 
current  literature.  We  have  recently  observed, 
with    concern,    that    the    rubbish    which    used 

*  The  Principles  of  Criticism.  An  Introduction  to  the 
Study  of  Literature.  By  W.  Basil  Worsfold.  London: 
Allen. 

270 


THE  PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM 

formerly  to  be  shot  into  novels  and  poems  is 
now  being  shot  into  criticism,  and  that  there 
appears  to  be  a  growing  impression  that  the 
accomplishments  which  qualify  young  men  for 
spinning  cobwebs  in  fiction  and  manufacturing 
versicles  can,  with  a  little  management,  serve 
to  set  them  up  as  critics.  There  is  not  much 
more  difficulty  in  forming  an  opinion  about  a 
book  than  there  is  in  reading  it,  and  as  criticism 
in  the  hands  of  these  fribbles  becomes  little 
more  than  the  dithyrambic  expression  of  that 
opinion,  the  profession  of  criticism  is  one  in 
which  it  is  delightfully  easy  to  graduate.  It 
requires  neither  learning  nor  knowledge,  neither 
culture  nor  discipline.  It  is  neither  science  nor 
art ;  it  is  the  gift  of  nature,  a  sort  of  "  lyric 
inspiration."  With  principles,  with  touchstones, 
with  standards,  it  has  nothing  whatever  to  do. 
Its  business  is  to  declaim,  to  coin  phrases,  to 
juggle  with  fancies  and  to  say  "  good  things." 
A  writer,  therefore,  who  tries  to  recall  criti- 
cism to  a  sense  of  its  responsibilities  and  true 
functions  deserves  all  sympathy  and  encourage- 
ment. It  is  refreshing  to  turn  from  the  sort  of 
thing  to  which  we  have  referred  to  such  a  work 
as  Mr.  Worsfold  has  given  us.  His  design  is 
"to  present  an  account  of  the  main  principles 
of  literary  criticism,"  which  he  professes  to  trace 
from  Plato  to  Matthew  Arnold.  Mr.  Worsf old's 
thesis  simply  stated  is  that  criticism — and  he 
deals  with  criticism  chiefly  in  its  application  to 

271 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF   CRITICISM 

poetry — has  passed  successively  through  five 
stages.  With  the  Greeks  it  concerned  itself 
principally  with  form.  "  The  first  question  it 
asked  with  them  was  not,  as  with  us,  What  is 
the  thought?  but  What  is  the  form?"  By  Addi- 
son— for  here  Mr.  Worsfold  makes  a  prodigious 
leap  over  some  twenty  centuries — it  was  fur- 
nished with  a  new  test,  and  it  asked.  How  does 
a  given  poem  aifect  the  imagination  ?  By  Less- 
ing  a  return  was  made  to  the  formal  criticism 
of  the  ancients,  but  he  adopted  also  Addison's 
criterion,  and  added  definiteness  to  it.  Victor 
Cousin  followed  in  1818  with  his  lectures,  en- 
titled, Du  Vrai,  du  Beau,  et  du  Bien,  and 
enlarged  the  boundaries  of  the  science  by  a 
complete  theory  of  beauty  and  art,  developed 
mainly  out  of  Plato.  Lastly  came  Matthew 
Arnold,  who  extended  the  realm  still  further,  by 
the  addition  of  certain  other  important  touch- 
stones of  poetic  excellence.  At  the  present  time 
a  gradual  limitation  of  the  scope  of  its  rules, 
and  a  gradual  extension  of  the  scope  of  its 
principles,  are  the  tendencies  most  discernible 
in  criticism.  "  An  enlightened  criticism  no 
longer  aims  at  directing  the  artist  by  formu- 
lating rules  which,  if  they  were  valid,  would 
only  tend  to  obliterate  the  distinction  between 
the  fine  and  the  technical  arts.  It  allows  him 
to  work  by  whatever  methods  he  may  choose, 
and  it  is  content  to  estimate  his  merit  not  by 
reference  to  his  method  but  by  reference  to  his 

272 


THE  PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM 

achievement,  as  measured  by  principles  of 
universal  validity." 

All  this  is  exceedingly  ingenious,  and  has  in  it 
a  measure  of  truth,  but,  like  most  generalisations 
on  vast  and  complicated  subjects,  it  is  more 
plausible  than  sound.  The  stages  in  the  pro- 
gress of  criticism  are  not  so  sharply  defined  as 
Mr.  Worsfold  would  have  us  believe.  If  Greek 
criticism  v^ere  represented  only  by  Plato  and  the 
extant  works  of  Aristotle,  English  by  Addison 
and  Matthew  Arnold,  German  by  Lessing,  and 
French  by  Victor  Cousin,  what  Mr.  Worsfold 
postulates  might,  after  a  manner,  pass  muster. 
But  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  Greek  criticism 
has  perished  ;  it  exists  only  in  fragments,  and  to 
the  most  important  and  remarkable  work  on 
this  subject  which  has  come  down  to  us  from 
antiquity,  the  Treatise  on  the  Sublime,  Mr.  "Wors- 
fold does  not  even  refer.  If  he  had  done  so,  and 
had  he  considered  what  is  scattered  fragmen- 
tarily  through  the  Greek  writers,  or  may  be 
gathered  from  the  titles  of  treatises  which  are 
lost,  he  would  have  seen  that  much  which  he 
supposes  to  mark  development  in  criticism  has 
long  been  old.  Innumerable  passages  in  the 
minor  Greek  critics,  in  Plutarch  and  in  the 
Scholia,  especially  if  we  add  what  is  to  be  found 
in  Roman  writers,  derived  no  doubt  from  Greek 
sources,  amply  warrant  doubt  whether,  after  all, 
it  is  not  with  criticism  as  it  is,  to  use  Goethe's 
expression,  with  wit,  "  Alles  Gescheidte  ist  schon 

E.G.  273  8 


THE  PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM 

gedacht  worden,  man  muss  nur  versuchen,  es 
noch  einmal  zu  denken."  At  all  events,  it  is  a 
great  mistake  to  suppose  that  Greek  criticism,  in 
its  application  to  poetry,  is  represented  by  Plato 
and  Aristotle.  It  would  be  almost  as  absurd  to 
go  to  Plato  for  typical  Greek  criticism  on  poetry 
as  it  would  be  to  go  to  Henry  More  or  the 
Puritan  Divines  for  typical  English  criticism. 
He  approached  it  only  as  such  a  philosopher 
would  be  likely  to  approach  it.  He  regarded 
art  and  letters  generally  simply  as  means  of 
educational  discipline  and  culture,  or  as  mere 
playthings,  of  which  the  best  to  be  expected 
was  harmless  pleasure.  He  despised  poetry  not 
only  as  an  appeal,  and  a  perturbing  appeal,  to 
the  senses  and  the  passions,  but  as  representing 
the  shadows  of  shadows.  It  may  be  pronounced 
with  confidence  that,  had  he  seriously  applied 
himself  to  literary  and  artistic  criticism,  he 
would  have  been  one  of  the  subtlest  and  pro- 
foundest  critics  who  ever  lived,  and  would  prob- 
ably have  anticipated,  so  far  as  principles  are 
concerned,  all  that  Mr.  Worsfold  attributes  to 
Addison,  to  Lessing,  and  to  Victor  Cousin  ;  but, 
like  our  own  Ruskin,  he  was  wilful  and  fana- 
tical. 

Still  less  is  Greek  criticism  represented  by 
Aristotle.  It  is  in  the  highest  degree  mislead- 
ing to  generalize  from  such  a  work  as  the 
Poetics.  It  is  not  merely  a  fragment,  but  a 
fragment    deformed    by    desperate    corruption, 

274 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF   CRITICISM 

hopeless  interstices  and  contemptible  inter- 
polations. If  it  confines  itself,  or  in  the  main 
confines  itself,  to  formal  criticism,  it  is  simply 
because  it  was  designed  to  deal  with  that 
particular  department  of  criticism,  not  because 
its  author  supposed  that  the  chief  question 
which  concerned  criticism  was  form.  Again, 
if  by  form  Mr.  Worsfold  understands,  as  he  ap- 
pears to  do,  expression  and  structure,  he  very 
much  misrepresents  the  Treatise.  Aristotle's 
criterion  of  poetry  is  not  its  formal  expression, 
for  he  distinctly  declares  that  it  is  not  metre 
which  makes  a  poem,  and  even  seems  to  main- 
tain that  a  poem  may  be  composed  without 
metre.  In  Aristotle's  definition  and  conception 
of  poetry  as  the  concrete  expression  of  the  uni- 
versal, in  his  definition  of  the  scope  and  func- 
tions of  tragedy,  and  in  innumerable  occasional 
remarks  we  have  the  germs  of  much,  and  of 
very  much,  which  Mr.  Worsfold  would  attribute 
to  the  later  developments  of  criticism. 

Aristotle,  it  is  true,  derived  his  canons  from  an 
analysis  of  the  masterpieces  of  Greek  poetry, 
but  it  is  doing  him  great  injustice  to  say,  that  he 
would  make  all  epics  Homeric,  and  all  plays  So- 
phoclean,  and  most  erroneous  to  assume  that  mo- 
dern criticism  commenced  at  this  point.  Aristotle 
distinctly  questions  whether  tragedy  had  as  yet 
perfected  its  proper  types  or  not  {Poet,  IV.  11), 
and  in  discussing  the  proper  length  of  tragedy 
he  makes  a  remark  which  shows  that  such  a  plot 

275 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF   CRITICISM 

as  the  plot  of  Hamlet  or  the  plot  of  Lear  would 
have  been  quite  compatible  with  his  canons.* 
The  truth  is  that  Mr.  Worsfold  has  gone  too 
far ;  he  has  confounded  the  various  aspects  of 
criticism  with  stages  in  its  development.  Aris- 
totle dealt  mainly  with  form,  because  it  was  his 
business  to  deal  with  form.  Plato  approached 
poetry  from  a  particular  point  of  view,  because 
it  was  from  that  particular  point  of  view  that 
it  concerned  him. 

Had  Mr.  Worsfold  taken  his  stand  in  his  re- 
view of  ancient  criticism  on  the  treatise  attri- 
buted to  Longinus,  he  would  have  seen  that  what 
he  so  strangely  attributes  to  Addison  and  later 
writers  had  long  been  anticipated.  This  remark- 
able work  which,  since  its  translation  into  French 
by  Boileau  in  1674,  has  had  more  influence  on 
criticism  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent 
than  any  other  work  that  could  be  named,  would 
alone  show  how  much  we  owe  to  the  Greeks.  It 
has  analyzed  and  defined,  for  all  time,  the  essen- 
tial virtues  and  the  essential  vices  of  diction  and 
style,  and  has  traced  them  to  their  sources.  It 
has  furnished  us  with  infallible  criteria  in  judg- 
ing rhetoric  and  poetry.  Take  its  analysis  of  the 
"grand  style,"  which  is  described  comprehensively 

'  6  df  Kar'  avTTjV  ttjp  (ftvatv  tov  irpdyfiaros  opos,  Set  fiev  6  fid^cov 
fifXP''  Toi'  (TvvbrjXos  (ivni  KoKXiav  (<ttI  Kara  t6  fiiytdos.  as  8( 
&n\S>s  8iopi(ravTas  dfrflv,  iv  oaa  fieyfdfi  Kara  to  ukos  fj  to 
avayKolov  €(f)e^rjs  ytyvopevcov  (rvfi^aivei  tli  (vTV)(!av  (k  8v(TTV)(las, 
fj  €$  (VTvxint  (Is  Sva-Tv^iav  fifTafiuXXfiv,  Uavos  opos  iarlv  tov 
ptyidovs.     {Poet.,  vii.  7.) 

276 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF   CRITICISM 

as  fi€ya\o<f)po(Tvvr}<i  dmjxvf^a,  "  the  echo  of  a  great 
soul "  ;  it  has,  the  Treatise  tolls  us,  five  char- 
acteristics— richness  and  grandeur  of  conception 
(to  irepi  tA9  voi]a€L<i  dSpevij^oXov) ;  vehement  and 
inspired  passion  (to  cr(f)oBp6v  koI  ivOovataarcKov 
irddo^),  the  due  formation  of  figures,  which  are 
twofold — first  those  of  thought,  and  secondly 
those  of  expression  (17  irola  tS)v  ayrjfidTOiv  'ir\dcn<i 
Btaad  Se  rrov  ravra,  tu  fiev  vo^a€o)<iy  Oaripa  Se  Xe^eo)?)  ; 
noble  diction  {^  yewaia,  <f)pd<n^)  ;  dignified  and 
elevated  composition  (r)  iv  d^icofxaTt  koX  Bidpaei 
avvde<n<i).  Nothing  could  be  more  masterly  than 
its  detailed  analysis  of  each  of  these  qualities, 
and  of  the  pseudo  forms  which  they  assume,  as 
the  result  of  stimulated  enthusiasm.  How  ad- 
mirable, too,  is  its  test  of  the  sublime  in  the 
seventh  chapter ;  its  criticism  of  Sappho,  general- 
izing what  constitutes  the  charm  and  power  of 
lyric,  in  the  tenth  chapter ;  its  analysis  of  the 
eloquence  of  Demosthenes,  again  generalizing 
the  characteristics  of  oratory  in  perfection 
(chap,  xvii.) ;  its  demonstration  of  the  in- 
feriority of  correct  mediocrity  to  the  faulty 
irregularities  of  inspired  genius ;  its  admirable 
remarks  about  the  relation  of  Art  to  Nature. 
Like  the  Poetics,  it  has  come  down  to  us  in  a 
very  mutilated  form,  and  has  evidently  been 
interpolated  by  some  inferior  hand,  which  no 
doubt  accounts  for  the  exasperating  triviality  of 
some  of  the  sections.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  we 
have  references  to  the  many  losses  which  Greek 

277 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OP  CRITICISM 

criticism  has  sustained,  the  author  referring  to 
treatises  written  by  him  on  Xenophon,  on 
Composition,  and  on  the  Passions. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  an  adequate  account  of 
the  evolution  of  criticism  without  a  very  careful 
survey  of  the  chief  contributors  to  criticism  in 
each  generation,  and  such  a  survey  Mr.  Worsf  old 
has  not  attempted.  To  Latin  criticism  he  never 
even  refers.  And  yet  it  has  had  great  influence 
on  critical  literature.  The  Romans,  it  is  true, 
contributed  scarcely  anything  new  to  criticism, 
except  that  which  pertains  to  oratory.  We 
know  enough  of  Varro,  with  whom  Roman  criti- 
cism may  be  said  to  begin,  to  feel  confident  that 
he  could  have  had  no  pretension  to  the  finer 
qualities  of  the  critic.  Of  the  five  treatises  com- 
posed by  him,  only  one,  the  Trepl  'xapaKrripwv, 
appears  to  have  been  purely  critical,  and  it 
almost  certainly  drew  largely  on  Greek  sources. 
Horace  derived  the  material  of  the  Ars  Poetica 
from  a  Greek  writer,  Neoptolemus  of  Parium. 
Much  of  Quinctilian's  criticism  is  demonstrably 
a  compilation  from  Greek  writers.  The  best 
critic  of  poetry  among  the  Romans  is  un- 
doubtedly to  be  found  m  Petronius,  occasional 
and  scanty  though  his  remarks  are.  But  of  prose 
literature  Rome  produced  two  really  great  critics 
— the  one  was  Cicero,  the  other  was  Tacitus. 
The  Brutus  and  the  Dialogus  de  Oratoribus  are 
masterpieces,  equal  to  anything  which  has  come 
down  to  us  from  the  Greeks.     One  of  the  most 

278 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM 

important  critical  principles  ever  enunciated  we 
owe  to  Cicero.  He  was  the  first  to  demonstrate 
that  the  test  of  excellence  in  oratory  lay,  in  its  ap- 
pealing equally  to  the  multitude  and  to  the  most 
fastidious  of  connoisseurs.  The  most  consum- 
mate rhetorician  which  the  world  has  ever  seen, 
he  was  at  the  same  time  a  consummate  critic  of 
his  art.  This  department  of  criticism  has,  in- 
deed, for  nearly  two  thousand  years,  been  practi- 
cally his  monopoly ;  it  may  be  questioned  whether 
anything  can  be  added,  so  far  as  the  technique 
of  rhetoric  is  concerned,  to  what  may  be  traced 
to  his  writings.  The  interest  of  the  Dialogus  de 
Oratoribus  is  largely  historical,  but  never  have 
the  causes  which  inspire  and  nourish,  or  depress 
and  starve,  eloquence  been  more  eloquently  and 
brilliantly  explained.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten 
that  it  was  through  the  medium  of  the  Latin 
critics  that  Greek  criticism  became  influential  on 
modem  literature. 

Mr.  Worsfold  has  very  properly  drawn  attention 
to  the  fine  passage  about  poetry  in  the  second 
book  of  Bacon's  Advancement  of  Learning,  but 
he  says  not  a  word  about  Sidney's  remarkable 
treatise,  one  of  the  most  charming  contributions 
to  the  criticism  of  poetry  which  has  ever  been 
made,  or  about  the  admirable  remarks  in  Ben 
Jonson's  Discoveries.  The  interest  of  Elizabethan 
criticism,  as  represented  by  these  works — and 
they  are  the  only  works  on  this  subject  of  any 
value  produced  during  the  Elizabethan  period — 

279 


THE   PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM 

lies  partly  in  its  return  to  Aristotelian  canons, 
and  partly  in  the  importance  which,  in  accordance 
with  the  ancients,  it  attaches  to  the  didactic 
element  in  poetry.  This  is  expressed  very  elo- 
quently in  Ben  Jonson's  dedication  of  the  Fox  :— 

"  If  men  will  impartially  and  not  asquint  look  toward 
the  offices  and  function  of  a  poet,  they  will  easily  conclude 
to  themselves  the  impossibility  of  a  man's  being  the  good 
poet  without  being  first  the  good  man, — he  that  is  able  to  in- 
form young  men  to  all  good  discipline,  inflame  young  men 
to  all  good  virtues,  keep  old  men  in  their  best  and  supreme 
state,  or,  as  they  decline  to  childhood,  recover  them  to  their 
first  state,  that  comes  forth  the  interpreter  and  arbiter  of 
nature,  a  teacher  of  things  divine  no  less  than  hviman." 

This  was  precisely  Spenser's  conception  of 
one  of  the  chief  functions  of  poetry.  Thus  the 
Elizabethan  critics,  who  were  followed  after- 
wards by  Milton,  if  they  did  not  formally  discuss 
the  relation  of  assthetic  to  ethic,  insisted  on 
their  essential  connection  in  the  higher  forms  of 
poetry.  Even  in  the  succeeding  age,  when  poetry 
lost  aU  its  high  seriousness  and  much  of  its 
moral  dignity,  criticism,  if  it  did  not  always  in- 
sist on  the  application  of  this  test,  still  retained 
it.  Dry  den  could  write,  "  I  am  satisfied  if  verse 
cause  delight,  for  delight  is  the  chief,  if  not  the 
only  end,  of  poesy  "  ;  but  in  adding  "  instruction 
can  be  admitted  but  in  the  second  place,  for 
poesy  only  instructs  as  it  delights,"  he  half  cor- 
rected his  former  statement,  and,  indeed,  simply 
reverted  to  what  Aristophanes,  Ben  Jonson,  and 
Milton  would  have  been  the  first  to  admit. 

280 


THE  PRINCIPLES   OF   CRITICISM 

But  to  return  to  Mr.  Worsfold.  A  very  serious 
defect  in  his  work  is  his  omission  of  all  notice 
of  Boileau  and  Dryden,  and  of  the  critics  con- 
temporary with  them  in  France  and  England. 
The  consequence  is,  that  much  is  attributed  to 
Addison  which  belongs  to  them,  and  Addison's 
importance  as  a  critic  is  much  overrated.  Again, 
of  the  many  memorable  contributions  to  this 
branch  of  literature  in  England,  in  France,  in 
Italy,  and  in  Germany,  which  were  made  between 
the  appearance  of  the  Abb^  Dubos's  R4fleocion8 
critiques  sur  la  po4sie  et  la  peinture  in  1719,  and 
the  lectures  of  Coleridge  and  Schlegel  about  1812, 
all  that  is  said  is  represented  by  what  is  said  of 
Lessing.  Though  a  long  chapter  is  given  to 
Matthew  Arnold,  Matthew  Arnold's  master, 
Sainte-Beuve,  is,  if  we  remember  rightly,  not 
so  much  as  named. 

Dr.  Johnson  divided  critics  into  three  classes 
— those  who  know  the  rules  and  judge  by  them, 
those  who  know  no  rules  but  judge  entirely  by 
natural  taste,  those  who  know  the  rules  but  are 
above  them.  This  has  been  true  in  all  ages,  and 
sufficiently  disposes  of  Mr.  Worsfold's  hypothesis 
about  the  stages  through  which  criticism  has 
passed.  All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  at  certain 
times  there  has  been  a  tendency,  determined  of 
course  by  the  character  of  the  particular  age,  to- 
wards the  predominance  of  a  particular  critical 
method  and  of  particular  points  of  view.  Fur- 
ther than  this  it  would  be  perilous  to  go.     It  has 

281 


THE  PRINCIPLES   OF  CRITICISM 

been  the  task  of  the  present  age  to  develop  each 
of  these  methods  to  the  full,  and  the  most 
authoritative  critics  of  the  last  twenty  years 
might  easily  be  ranged  under  one  of  those 
classes. 

The  soundest  and  most  valuable  part  of  Mr. 
Worsfold's  book  is  the  part  dealing  with  the 
criticism  of  the  last  few  years.  His  chapter  on 
Matthew  Arnold,  in  particular,  is  admirable, 
and  his  remarks  on  the  functions  of  criticism 
at  the  present  time,  deduced  as  they  have  been 
from  "Wordsworth,  Arnold  and  Ruskin,  are  in 
a  high  degree  instructive  and  interesting.  In 
pointing  out  that  criticism  should  not  confine 
itself  merely  to  the  investigation  of  technical 
excellence,  and  to  all  that  is  implied  in  the 
doctrine  of  Art  for  Art's  sake,  but  should  recog- 
nise that  there  are  limits  beyond  which  the 
artist  should  not  exercise  his  technical  skill,  he 
recalls  us  to  principles  which  it  is  well  that 
criticism  should  not  forget.  We  quite  agree  with 
him  that  there  is  now  an  increasing  tendency  to 
recognise  these  limits,  and  to  lay  most  stress  on 
the  interpretation  of  the  ideal  element  in  litera- 
ture and  art.  That  is  certainly  the  modern  note. 
We  have  expressed  our  reasons  for  dissenting 
from  Mr.  Worsfold's  historical  view  of  the 
evolution  of  criticism,  but  his  book  is  full  of 
interest,  and  will  amply  repay  the  attention  of 
serious  readers.  It  is  a  book  which  does  not 
deserve  to  be  lost  in  the  crowd. 

282 


WOMEN  IN  GREEK    POETRY* 

THE  editor  of  this  book  cannot  be  con- 
gratulated either  on  his  competence  or  on 
his  discretion.  To  hurry  into  the  world  a  work 
which  is  not  merely  a  fragment,  but  which  cries 
for  revision,  suppression,  and  correction  in  almost 
every  page,  is  a  literary  crime  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude, and  deserves  the  severest  castigation. 
Of  the  author  of  the  work,  who  appears  to  have 
been  a  young  man  of  some  attainments  and  of 
much  promise,  we  desire  to  speak  with  all 
gentleness ;  we  wholly  absolve  him  from  blame, 
for  we  have  no  right  to  assume  that  he  would 
himself  have  given  to  the  world  what  his  editor 
admits  was  intra  penetralia  Vestas,  and  what  we 
hope  and  believe  he  would  himself  have  com- 
mitted emendaturis  ignibicSf  had  he  arrived  at 
years  of  discretion.  But  the  dissemination  of 
error  is  no  light  thing,  especially  in  relation  to 
subjects  which  are  of  great  interest,  and,  from 
an  historical  and  literary  point  of  view,  of  great 

'  Antimachus  of  Colophon  and  the  Position  of  Women  in 
Greek  Poetry.    By  E.  F.  M.  Benecke. 

283 


WOMEN   IN  GREEK  POETRY 

importance.  When  we  think  of  the  many  ami- 
able and  industrious  tutors  at  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge who,  unless  they  are  put  on  their  guard, 
will  unsuspiciously  fill  their  note-books  with 
the  nonsense  of  this  volume,  and  impart  it,  by 
degrees,  to  the  listening  credulity  of  youth,  we 
feel  we  have  no  alternative  but  to  perform  a 
plain,  if  painful,  duty.  We  repeat,  we  absolve 
the  author  from  all  blame ;  the  sole  culprit  is 
the  editor. 

That  Solomon  was  the  author  of  the  Iliad, 
Poggio  the  author  of  the  Annals  of  Tacitus, 
and  Bacon  the  author  of  Shakespeare's  plays, 
are  hypotheses  scarcely  less  monstrously  absurd 
than  the  thesis  propounded  in  this  volume.  Mr. 
Benecke's  main  contentions  are  "that  a  pure 
love  between  man  and  woman  seemed  to  the 
early  Greeks"  (that  is,  to  those  who  lived 
before  the  latter  end  of  the  Peloponnesian  War) 
a  sheer  impossibility ;  that  "  in  extant  Greek 
poetry  there  is  no  trace  of  romantic  love  poetry 
addressed  to  women  prior  to  the  time  of  Ascle- 
piades  and  Philetas "  ;  that  "  in  the  works  of 
these  writers  this  element  suddenly  appears 
not  in  the  nature  of  an  experiment  but  as  a 
leading  motive "  ;  that  the  appearance  of  this 
element  was  due  to  the  influence  of  Anti- 
machus,  "  who  was  the  first  man  who  had 
the  courage  to  say  that  a  woman  was  worth 
loving,  and  who  may  thus  be  regarded  as  the 
originator   of   the   romantic   element  in   litera- 

284 


WOMEN  IN   GREEK   POETRY 

fcure."  As  we  have  not  space  to  refute  this 
nonsense  in  detail,  we  will  give  some  examples 
of  the  way  in  which  it  is  supported.  First  come 
misrepresentations  and  blunders.  To  emphasize 
the  degradation  of  women,  passages  in  transla- 
tion are  twisted  and  perverted  almost  beyond 
recognition. 

Thus  the  couplet  of  Catullus — 

"Tunc  te  dilexi,  non  tantura  ut  vulgua  amicara, 
Sed  pater  ut  natos  diligit  et  generos  " — 

ie  actually  paraphrased  "I  loved  you,  not  as 
a  man  loves  a  woman,  but  as  a  man  loves  a 
youth."  The  couplet  in  which  Antigone  says, 
"  If  my  husband  died,  I  could  get  another,  and 
were  I  deprived  of  him  too,  I  could  be  a  mother 
by  another  man  " — 

iroais  (iff  av  /xo(,  KarBavovros,  SKKos  ^v 

Koi  noli  air'  aWov  </)a)Tof,  ei  roiib*  rjfinXaKOv—^ 

is  translated  "  If  my  husband  had  died,  I  could 
have  married  another,  if  he  had  failed  to  get  me 
children,  I  could  have  committed  adultery."  The 
"main  motive  of  the  Iliad,"  we  are  informed, 
(p.  76),  "is  the  love  of  Achilles  for  Patroclus." 
The  interest  of  the  Ajax  "  is  meant  to  centre 
on  Teucer,  the  amasiua  of  the  dead  Ajax."  That 
the  Alcestis  may  not  be  pressed  into  the  service 
of  those  who  would  maintain  that  the  Greeks 
knew  how  to  respect  women,  the  key  to  it  is  to 
be  found  "  in  the  relation  existing  between  Ad- 
metus  and  Apollo  "  (!)     The  revolting  coarseness 

285 


WOMEN   IN   GREEK   POETRY 

and  flippant  vulgarity  which  mark  the  book,  and, 
which  do  very  little  credit  to  Oxford  training,  are 
illustrated  by  the  remarks  employed  to  disparage 
these  types  of  womanhood  which  the  writer  well 
knows  would  refute  his  theory.  Thus  of  Nau- 
sicaa,  "  she  is  always  regarded  as  a  charming 
type  of  woman  ;  but,  after  all,  how  one  naturally 
thinks  of  her  is  (sic)  as  a  charming  type  of 
washerwoman "  ;  of  Penelope,  "  she  longs  for 
the  return  of  her  husband,  no  doubt ;  but  what 
really  grieves  her  about  the  suitors  is  not  their 
suggestions  as  to  his  death,  but  the  quantity  of 
pork  they  eat."  On  a  par  with  this  sort  of  thing 
is  the  remark  about  a  play  of  Sophocles,  which, 
by  the  way,  is  not  extant,  that  "  it  merely  drew 
the  usual  picture  of  the  gods  playing  shove-half- 
penny with  human  souls "  (p.  47) ;  or  flippant 
vulgarity  like  the  following  —  Admetus  ex- 
presses "his  deep  regret  that  he  cannot  ac- 
company Alcestis,  as  Charon  does  not  issue 
return  tickets."  If  this  is  the  humour  of  young 
Oxford,  the  progress  of  which  we  hear  so  much 
has  been  purchased  at  a  heavy  price. 

But  to  continue.  On  page  27  we  are  con- 
fronted with  the  astounding  statement  that  "  it 
is  in  Anacreon  that  we  find  for  the  first  time 
love-poetry  addressed  to  a  woman."  Why,  Her- 
mesianax  (15,  16)  distinctly  states  that  Musseus 
wrote  love-poetry  to  his  wife  or  mistress, 
Antiope,  and  that  Hesiod  wrote  many  poems 
in    honour     of     his     love,     Eoia    {Id.     22-24). 

286 


WOMEN   IN   GREEK   POETRY 

Alcfieus  notoriously  wrote  love-poems  to  Sappho, 
as  we  need  go  no  further  than  the  first  book 
of  Aristotle's  Rhetoric  to  know ;  both  Alcman, 
the  lover  of  Egido  and  Megalostrate,  and,  prob- 
ably Ibycus  also  wrote  love-poetry  to  women. 
It  is  mere  special  pleading  to  contend  that  Mim- 
nermus  did  not  write  poetry  to  the  mistress  of 
his  affections,  to  whom,  according  to  Strabo,  his 
erotic  poetry  was  addressed.  Hermesianax  dis- 
tinctly states  that  Mimnermus  was  passionately 
in  love  with  Nanno,  and  certainly  implies  that 
his  love-poetry  was  addressed  to  her  (35-38). 
It  is  true  that  two  of  the  fragments  of  Archi- 
lochus  are  ambiguous,  but  one  is  not ;  and,  if  we 
may  judge  by  a  single  line  (Fr.  71),  his  love  for 
Neobule  expressed  itself  in  a  manner  indis- 
tinguishable from  Petrarch's  vein  —  "  Would 
that  I  might  touch  Neobule's  hand "  :  el  yap  a>9 
ifjLol  yevocTo  x^lpa  Neo^ovXir]^  Oiyeiv.  It  is  clear 
that  women  had  a  prominent  place  in  the 
poetry  of  Stesichorus,  and  in  his  poem  entitled 
Calyce  we  seem  to  have  had  an  anticipation  of 
the  modern  love  romance.  And  yet,  in  spite  of 
all  this,  we  are  informed  that  the  Greeks  had  no 
love-poetry  addressed  to,  or  concerning  women, 
before  Anacreon. 

The  methods  adopted  for  minimizing  or  dis- 
guising the  importance  of  women  in  the  Tliad 
and  Odyssey  are  very  amusing.  "The  Trojan 
war  was  the  work  of  a  woman ;  but  how  very 
little  that  woman  appears  in  the  Iliad."      She 

287 


WOMEN   IN  GREEK   POETRY 

appears  quite  as  frequently  and  imposingly  as 
the  action  admits,  and  she  and  Andromache  are 
painted  as  elaborately  as  any  of  the  dramatis 
personce  in  the  poem.  Indeed,  it  would  not  be 
too  much  to  say  that,  with  the  exception  of 
Achilles  and  Agamemnon,  they  leave  the  deepest 
impression  on  us.  "A  woman  has  been  managing 
the  affairs  of  Odysseus  for  twenty  years  in  an 
exemplary  fashion  ;  but  the  hero  of  the  Odyssey 
on  his  return  prefers  to  associate  with  the  swine- 
herd." Comment  is  superfluous.  Nothing  could 
be  more  striking  than  the  prominence  which  is 
given  to  women  both  in  the  Iliad  and  in  the 
Odyssey.  To  cite  such  writers  as  Simonides  of 
Amorgus,  Phocylides  and  Theognis,  as  authorities 
on  the  position  of  women,  is  as  absurd,  in  Sancho 
Panza's  phrase,  as  to  look  for  pears  on  an  elm. 

The  Greek  Tragedies  are  treated  after  the 
same  fashion  as  :the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.  We 
are  told  that  the  remarkable  prominence  given 
in  Sophocles's  plays  to  the  affection  between 
brother  and  sister  affords  conclusive  proof  that 
the  nature  of  modern  love  between  man  and 
woman  was  unknown  to  him ;  and  we  are  also 
informed,  that  the  relations  between  Electra  and 
Orestes,  and  Antigone  and  Polynices  '*  are  abso- 
lutely those  of  modern  lovers."  It  would  be 
difficult  to  say  which  is  more  absurd,  the  deduc- 
tion or  the  statement.  What  love  could  be 
more  loyal  and  more  passionate  than  Hsemon'a 
love  for  Antigone?     The  prominence  given  by 

288 


WOMEN   IN   GREEK   POETRY 

Sophocles  to  the  love  between  brother  and  sister 
has  its  origin  from  the  same  cause  as  the  very 
small  part  played  by  lovers  in  the  Greek  tra- 
gedies generally.  In  the  first  place,  a  poet  who 
took  his  plot  from  the  fortunes  of  the  houses 
of  Pelops  or  Laius  could  only  work  within  the 
limits  of  tradition ;  in  the  second  place,  love 
romances,  unless  involving  deep  tragical  issues 
as  in  the  Trachinice,  the  Medea,  and  the  Hippo- 
lytus,  were  totally  incompatible  with  the  Greek 
idea  of  tragedy.  But  we  must  hurry  to  the  grand 
discovery  made  by  the  author  of  this  volume. 

Somewhere  about  405  B.C.  flourished  Anti- 
machus,  of  Colophon,  the  author  of  a  volu- 
minous epic,  and  of  several  other  poems.  He 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  wife  Lyde,  and,  to 
beguile  his  sorrow,  he  composed  a  long  elegy  in 
her  honour.  Of  the  far-reaching  consequences 
of  this  act  let  our  author  speak.  '•  When  Anti- 
machus  first  sat  down  in  his  empty  house  at 
Colophon  to  write  an  elegy  to  his  dead  wife, 
consciously  or  unconsciously  he  was  initiating 
the  greatest  artistic  revolution  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen."  Asclepiades  and  Philetas  fol- 
lowed him  as  imitators,  and  the  thing  was  done. 
Woman  was  at  last  "connected  with  'romance.'" 
Our  author  admits  the  difficulty  of  supposing 
that  "  any  one  man  could  invent  and  popularize 
an  entirely  new  emotion  " ;  but  suggests  that  if 
we  regard  it  as  "simply  due  to  the  readjust- 
ment of  an  already  existing  emotion,"  that  is 

E.O.  289  T 


WOMEN  IN   GREEK   POETRY 

naiSepaaTta,  such  a  supposition  is  "no  longer 
absurd."     It  is  not  only  absurd  but  monstrous. 

The  truth  almost  certainly  is,  that  the  love 
between  man  and  woman  in  ancient  Greece  dif- 
fered very  little  from  the  love  between  man  and 
woman  as  it  exists  now.  Marriage  was,  it  is 
true,  purely  a  matter  of  business ;  most  wives 
aspired  to  nothing  more  than  the  management 
of  the  nursery  and  the  household,  and  most 
women  being  without  education,  and  living  in 
seclusion,  could  scarcely  associate,  intellectually 
at  least,  on  equal  terms  with  their  husbands  or 
lovers.  But  this  proves  nothing  more  than 
mariages  de  convenance,  and  love  based  on  the 
fascination  exercised  by  sensuous  attraction 
prove  now.  Then,  as  in  our  own  time,  there 
were  marriages  and  marriages,  liaisons  and  liai- 
sons. The  story  which  Plutarch  tells  of  Callias 
{Cimon.  iv.)  shows  that  marriage  was  often  based 
on  love.  The  pictures  given  of  Hector  and  An- 
dromache in  the  Iliads  of  Alcinous  and  Arete,  of 
Ulysses  and  Penelope,  of  Menelaus  and  Helen  in 
the  Odyssey,  the  charming  account  of  Ischo- 
machus  and  his  young  wife  in  the  (Economics 
of  Xenophon,  the  noble  and  pathetic  story  of 
Pantheia  and  Abradatas  in  the  Cyropcedeia, 
the  story  which,  in  his  life  of  Agis,^  Plutarch 
tells  of  Chilonis,  and,  in  the  Morals,  of  Gamma,' 
and  innumerable  other  legends,  traditions,  and 
anecdotes,  prove  that  women  could  inspire  and 

'  Agis,  xvii.,  xviii.  *  De  Muliervim  Virtutibus. 

200 


WOMEN   IN   GREEK   POETRY 

return  as  pure  and  as  chivalrous  a  love  as  any 
of  the  heroines  of  chivalry.  The  poet  who  could 
write  about  marriage  as  Homer  does  in  the 
Sixth  Odyssey  would  have  had  little  to  learn 
from  modern  refinement.^  The  love  which 
Critobulus  describes  himself  as  having  for 
Amandra,  in  the  Symposium  of  Xenophon,  and 
the  remarks  made  by  Socrates  in  that  dialogue 
embody  the  most  exalted  conceptions  of  the 
passion  of  love  between  the  sexes.  The  sen- 
timents of  Plutarch  on  this  subject  are  indistin- 
guishable from  the  most  refined  notions  of  the 
modern  world,  as  is  abundantly  illustrated  in 
the  Amntoriiis,  the  Conjugalia  Prcecepta,  and  in 
the  remarks  on  marriage  in  the  eighth  chapter 
of  the  Essay  on  Moral  Virtue.  If  Ajax  and 
Hercules  became  brutes,  Tecmessa  and  Deianeira 
were  not  the  only  women  who  have  discovered 
that  men  are,  too  often,  May  when  they  woo,  and 
December  when  they  wed.  It  is  ridiculous  to 
suppose  that  a  people  whose  popular  poetry 
could  present  such  types  of  womanhood  as  Arete, 
Antigone,  Alcestis,  Deianeira,  Electra,  Macaria, 
Iphigenia,  Evadne,  and  Polyxena,  who  could 
boast  such  poetesses  as  Sappho,  Erinna,  Corinna, 
Myrtis,  and  Damophila,  and  whose  society  was 
graced  by  such  women  as  Aspasia,  Diotima, 
Gnathsena,  Herpyllis,  Metaneira,  and  Leontium, 
should  have  given  expression  to  passion,  senti- 
ment, and  romance  only  in  iraiSiKol  vfivoi. 
'  See  particularly  lines  180-186. 

291 


WOMEN   IN   GREEK   POETRY 

What  the  author  of  this  book,  and  what  others 
who  are  fond  of  generalizing  about  the  Greeks, 
forget,  is,  that  of  a  once  vast  and  voluminous 
literature  we  have  only  fragments.  That  portion 
of  their  poetry  which  would  have  thrown  light 
on  the  subject  here  discussed  has  perished. 
It  is  certain,  for  example,  that  of  their  lyric 
poetry  a  very  large  portion  was  erotic,  of  that 
portion  exactly  one  poem  has  survived  in  its 
entirety,  while  a  few  hundred  scattered  lines, 
torn  from  their  context,  represent  the  rest  that 
has  come  down  to  us.  We  know,  again,  that  in 
some  hundreds  of  their  dramas,  in  the  Middle 
and  New  Comedy  that  is  to  say,  the  plots  turned 
on  love — of  these  dramas  not  a  single  one  is 
preserved.  But  the  reflection  of  some  twenty 
of  them  in  Terence  and  Plautus,  and  several 
scattered  fragments,  clearly  indicate,  that  the 
passion  between  the  sexes  involved  as  much 
sentiment  and  romance  as  it  does  in  our  Eliza- 
bethan dramatists.  In  what  respect  do  Charinus 
and  Pamphilus  in  the  Andria  and  Antipho  in 
the  Phormio — mere  replicas,  of  course,  of  Greek 
originals — differ  from  modern  lovers?  What 
could  be  more  romantic  than  the  love  story 
which  formed  the  plot  of  the  Phasma  of  Men- 
ander  ?  It  is  fair  to  our  author  to  say  that  he 
fully  admits  this,  in  the  only  tolerably  satisfac- 
tory part  of  his  book,  the  chapter  on  Women  in 
Greek  Comedy.  The  great  blot  on  Greek  life, 
to  which  Mr.  Benecke  gives  so  much  prominence, 

292 


WOMEN   IN   GREEK   POETRY 

has  probably  had  far  too  much  importance  at- 
tached to  it,  partly,  perhaps,  owing  to  its  accen- 
tuation in  the  writings  of  Plato,  and  partly 
owing  to  that  rage  for  scandalous  tittle-tattle, 
so  unhappily  characteristic  of  ancient  anecdote- 
mongers  from  Ion  to  Athenseus 


293 


MR.   STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'   POEMS  ^ 

THE  accent  here  is  unmistakable,  it  is  the 
accent  of  a  new  and  a  true  poet.  Mr. 
Phillips  gives  us  no  mere  variations  on  familiar 
melodies,  no  clever  copies  of  classical  archetypes, 
and  what  is  more,  he  has  not  employed  any 
illegitimate  means  of  attracting  attention  and 
giving  distinction  to  his  work.  An  audacious 
choice  of  subjects,  the  adoption  of  the  stones 
which  the  builders  have  rejected,  and,  it  may  be 
added,  disdained,  has,  when  coupled  with  elabo- 
rate affectations  and  eccentricities  of  treatment 
and  style,  often  enabled  mediocrity  to  pass,  tem- 
porarily at  least,  for  genius,  and  the  specious 
counterfeit  of  originality  for  the  thing  itself. 
But  these  poems  are  marked  by  simplicity,  sin- 
cerity, spontaneity.  If  a  discordant  note  is 
sometimes  struck,  here  in  an  over-strained  con- 
ceit, and  there  in  an  incongruous  touch  of  pre- 
ciosity or  false  sentiment,  this  is  but  an  accident ; 
in  essentials  all  is  genuine.  Nature  and  passion 
affect  to  be  speaking,  and  nature  and  passion 
really  speak.  A  poet,  of  whom  this  may  be  said 
with   truth,  has  passed  the  line  which  divides 

'  Poems.    By  Stephen  Phillips.    London  and  New  York 
John  Lane. 

294 


MR.  STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'   POEMS 

talent  from  genius,  the  true  singer  from  the 
accomplished  artist  or  imitator.  He  has  taken 
his  place,  wherever  that  place  may  be,  among 
authentic  poets.  To  that  high  honour  the  pre- 
sent volume  undoubtedly  entitles  Mr.  Phillips. 
It  would  now,  perhaps,  be  premature  to  say  more 
than  "  Ingens  omen  habet  magni  clarique  tri- 
umphi,"  but  we  may  predict  with  confidence  that, 
if  fate  is  kind  and  his  muse  is  true  to  him,  he 
has  a  distinguished  future  before  him.  It  may 
be  safely  said  that  no  poet  has  made  his  d4hut 
with  a  volume  which  is  at  once  of  such  extra- 
ordinary merit  and  so  rich  in  promise. 

Mr.  Phillips  is  not  a  poet  who  has  "  one  plain 
passage  of  few  notes."  He  strikes  many  chords, 
and  strikes  them  often  with  thrilling  power.  The 
awful  story  narrated  in  The  Wife  is  conceived  and 
embodied  with  really  Dantesque  intensity  and 
vividness ;  it  has  the  master's  suggestive  reser- 
vation, smiting  phrase,  and  clairvoyant  picture 
wording,  as  "  in  the  red  shawl  sacredly  she 
burned,"  "  smiled  at  him  with  her  lips,  not  with 
her  eyes  "  ;  while  "  Mother  and  child  that  food 
together  ate"  is,  in  pregnancy  of  tragic  sugges- 
tiveness,  almost  worthy  to  stand  with  the  "poscia, 
pill  che  il  dolor,  pot^  il  digiuno."  Equally  dis- 
tinguished, though  on  another  plane  of  interest, 
is  The  woman  with  the  dead  Soul,  the  soul  which 
could  once  "  wonder,  laugh,  and  weep,"  but  over 
which  the  days  began  to  fall  "  dismally,  as  rain 
on  ocean  blear,"  till — 

295 


MR.    STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'    POEMS 

"  Existence  lean,  in  sky  dead  grey 
Withholding  steadily,  starved  it  away." 

If  the  pathos  in  these  poems  is  almost  "  too  deep 
for  tears,"  it  is  gentler  in  the  second  and  third 
of  the  lyrics,  which  are  as  exquisite  as  they 
are  affecting.  The  idea  in  the  lines  To  Milton 
Blind,  is  worthy  of  Milton's  own  sublime  conceit, 
that  the  darkness  which  had  fallen  on  his  eyes 
was  but  the  shadow  of  God's  protecting  wings. 
The  whole  poem,  indeed,  is  a  beautiful  para- 
phrase of  the  noble  passage  in  the  Second  Defence 
of  the  People  of  England  :  "  For  the  Divine  law  " 
— we  give  it  in  the  English  translation — "  not 
only  shields  me  from  injury,  but  almost  renders 
me  too  sacred  to  attack,  not  indeed  so  much  from 
the  privation  of  my  sight  as  from  the  over- 
shadowing of  those  heavenly  wings  which  seem 
to  have  occasioned  this  obscurity  ;  and  which, 
when  occasioned,  he  is  wont  to  illuminate  with 
an  interior  light  more  precious  and  more  pure." 

In  The  Lily,  which  is  a  little  obscure — a  fault 
against  which  Mr.  Phillips  would  do  well  to 
guard,  for  he  frequently  offends  in  this  respect 
— we  have  the  note  of  Petrarch,  but  Petrarch 
would  not  have  ended  the  poem  so  flatly. 
Tennyson  is  recalled,  too  nearly  perhaps,  in  "  By 
the  Sea,"  but  it  is  a  poem  of  great  charm  and 
beauty.  The  New  De  Profundis  is,  unhappily, 
the  key  to  Mr.  Phillips'  characteristic  mood  ;  it 
reminds  us  of  the  curse  imposed  on  the  worldling 
in  Browning's  Easter  Day,  before  he  has  learned 
the  use  of  life  and  doubt. 

296 


MR.   STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'   POEMS 

Mr.  Phillips'  two  most  ambitious  poems  are 
Christ  in  Hades  and  Marpessa.  In  Christ  in 
Hades  he  fails,  as  Mrs.  Browning  failed  in  The 
Drama  of  Exile.  He  attempts  a  theme — a  stu- 
pendous theme — to  which  his  genius  is  not  equal, 
and  which  could  only  have  been  adequately- 
treated  by  such  poets  as  Dante  and  Milton,  in  the 
maturity  of  their  powers.  It  has  neither  basis 
nor  superstructure.  It  is  what  the  Greeks  would 
call  "meteoric"  as  distinguished  from  "sublime." 
It  is  a  weird,  wild,  and  chaotic  dream ;  and  yet 
for  all  this  its  appeal  to  the  heart  and  the  ima- 
gination is  piercing  and  direct.  Like  Tennyson, 
Mr.  Phillips  has  the  art  of  unfolding  the  full 
significance  of  a  few  suggestive  words  in  a  great 
classic  ;  and  nothing  could  be  more  effective  than 
the  use  to  which  he  has  applied  the  famous  lines 
which  Homer  places  in  the  mouth  of  Achilles. 
Poetry  has  few  things  more  pathetic  than 
Homer's  picture  of  Hades  and  the  dead,  and  that 
pathos  Mr.  Phillips  has  given  us  in  quintessence, 
as  few  would  question  after  reading  the  lines 
which  describe  Persephone  yearning  for  her 
return  to  the  spring-illumined  world,  the  speech 
of  the  Athenian  ghost,  and  the  woman's  address 
to  Christ.  If  the  world  depicted  has  something 
of  Horace's  artistic  monster,  or,  to  change  the 
image,  something  of  the  anarchy  of  dreams  in 
its  composition,  the  vividness  and  picturesquenoss 
with  which  particular  figures  and  scenes  are 
Bashed  into  light  and  definition  in  extraordinarily 

297 


MR.   STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'   POEMS 

impressive.  It  is  so  with  the  central  figure, 
Christ ;  it  is  so  with  Prometheus ;  and  the  con- 
trast between  these  martyrs  for  man  has  both 
pathos  and  grandeur. 

There  is  more  originality,  more  power  in 
Christ  in  Hades  than  in  Marpessa,  but  Mar- 
pessa  has  more  balance,  more  sanity,  more 
of  the  stuff  out  of  which  good  and  abiding 
poetry  is  made,  than  its  predecessor.  The  one 
savours  of  the  spasmodic  school,  the  productions 
of  which  have  rarely  been  found  to  have  the 
principle  of  life,  however  rich  they  may  have 
been  in  promise ;  the  other  is  a  return  to  a 
school  in  which  most  of  those  who  have  gained 
permanent  fame  have  studied.  And  we  are 
glad  to  find  a  young  poet  there. 

But  it  would  be  doing  Mr.  Phillips  great  in- 
justice not  to  note  that,  though  he  has  had  many 
predecessors  in  the  semi-classical,  semi-romantic 
re-treatment  of  the  Greek  myths,  notably  Keats 
in  HypeHon,  Wordsworth  in  Dion  and  Laodamia, 
Landor  in  his  Hellenics,  and  Tennyson  in  uiEnone 
and  Tithonus,  he  has  treated  his  theme  with 
a  distinction  which  is  all  his  own,  and  has 
impressed  on  it  an  intense  individuality.  In 
comparison  with  these  masters  he  may  be 
pauper,  but  he  is  pauper  in  suo  cere. 

It  would  be  easy  to  point  to  faults  in  Mr. 
Phillips'  work.  His  sense  of  rhythm,  even  allow- 
ing for  what  are  plainly  deliberate  experiments 
in  discord,  seems  often  curiously  defective.    How 

298 


MR.   STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'   POEMS 

stiff  and  limping, for  example, is  the  following: — 

"  O  pity  us, 
For  I  would  ask  of  thee  only  to  look 
Upon  the  wonderful  sunlight  and  to  smell 
Earth  in  the  rain.    Is  not  the  labourer 
Returning  heavy  through  the  August  sheaves 
Against  the  setting  sun,  who  gladly  smells 
His  supper  from  the  opening  door — is  he 
Not  happier  than  these  melancholy  kings? 
How  good  it  is  to  live,  even  at  the  worst! 
God  was  so  lavish  to  us  once,  but  here 
He  hath  repented,  jealous  of  His  beams." 

Lines,  again,  like  "  Pierced  her,  and  odour  full  of 
arrows  was,"  "  Realizes  all  the  uncoloured  dawn," 
*  Yet  followed  a  riddled  memorable  flag,"  are, 
no  doubt,  extreme  instances,  but  they  are  typical 
of  many  bad  lines.  Occasionally  he  falls  flat  on 
some  harsh  prosaic  phrase,  like  "  beautiful  indo- 
lence was  on  our  brains"  Nor  is  he  always 
happy  in  his  attempts  at  novelty  in  phraseology, 
as  in  his  employment  of  the  words  "  liable," 
"  inaccurate,"  "  pungent "  ;  and  these  faults  in 
rhythm  and  diction  are  the  more  remarkable,  as 
the  really  subtle  mastery  over  rhythmic  expres- 
sion which  he  exhibits  at  times,  and  his  singu- 
larly felicitous  epithets,  turns,  and  phrases  are 
among  his  most  striking  gifts.  Take  a  few  out 
of  very  many:  "A  bleak  magnificence  of  endless 
hope,"  "  That  common  trivial  face,  of  endless 
needs,"  '•  The  mystic  river,  floating  wan,"  "  And 
the  moist  evening  fallow,  richly  dark,"  "  That 
palest  rose  sweet  on  the  night  of  life."  How  noble 
is  the  rhythm  and  imagery  of  the  following : — 

299 


y 


MR.   STEPHEN   PHILLIPS'   POEMS 

"  All  the  dead 
The  melancholy  attraction  of  Jesus  felt : 
And  millions,  like  a  sea,  wave  upon  wave, 
Heaved  dreaming  to  that  moonlight  face,  or  ran 
In  wonderful  long  ripples,  sorrow-charmed. 
Toward  him,  in  faded  purple,  pacing  came 
Dead  emperors,  and  sad,  unflattered  kings ; 
Unlucky  captains,  listless  armies  led: 
Poets  with  music  frozen  on  their  lips 
Toward  the  pale  brilliance  sighed." 

And  it  would  be  easy  to  multiply  illustrations 
from  Marpessa  and  By  the  Sea.  Occasionally 
there  is  a  certain  incongruity  between  the  form 
and  the  matter.  A  poem  so  essentially,  so 
intensely  realistic  as  The  Wife  should  not  have 
such  quaintnesses  as  "paled  in  her  thought." 
Nor  should  we  have 

"  The  constable,  with  lifted  hand, 
Conducting  the  orchestral  Strand  " ; 

nor  should  a  railway  station  be  described  as  a 
"  mooned  terminus."  Nothing  is  so  disenchant- 
ing as  affectation. 

One  cannot  but  add  that  these  poems,  welcome 
as  they  are,  would  have  been  more  welcome  still, 
had  they  been  less  profoundly  melancholy. 
Their  monotonous  sadness,  the  persistency  with 
which  they  dwell  on  all  those  grim  and  melan- 
choly realities  which  poetry  should  help  us  to 
forget,  or  cheer  us  in  enduring,  is  not  merely 
their  leading,  but  their  pervading  characteristic. 
This  note  will,  we  hope,  change.  Leopardi  is 
immortal,  and  could  not  be  spared  ;  but  one 
Leopardi  is  enough  for  a  single  century. 

300 


THE   ILLUSTRIOUS   OBSCURE' 

SOME  nineteen  hundred  years  ago  Horace 
observed  that  there  was  one  thing  which 
neither  gods,  nor  men,  nor  bookstalls  would  tol- 
erate in  a  poet — and  that  was  mediocrity.  The 
verdict  of  gods,  men,  and  the  bookstalls  is  prob- 
ably still  what  it  was  then  ;  but  to  such  tribunals 
the  rhymesters  of  our  time  can  afiford  to  be 
quite  indiflPerent.  Paper  and  printing  are  cheap ; 
small  poets  and  small  critics  are  now  so  numer- 
ous that  they  form  a  world,  and  a  populous 
world,  in  themselves  ;  and,  well  understanding 
the  truth  of  the  old  proverb,  "  Concordia  parvse 
res  crescunt,"  they  mutually  manufacture  the 
wreaths  with  which  they  crown  each  other's 
modest  vanity.  There  are  hundreds  of  "  poets  " 
and  "  critics  "  of  whom  the  great  world  knows 
nothing,  who  are  thus  enabled,  in  their  little  day, 
to  tfiste  all  the  sweets  of  fame,  and  "  walk  with 
inward  glory  crown'd."     To  wage   serious  war 

'  West  Country  Poets  :  Their  Lives  and  Works,  etc 
Illu3trated  with  Portraits.  By  W.  H.  Kearley  Wright, 
F.R.H.S.    London :  Elliot  Stock.     1896. 

301 


THE   ILLUSTRIOUS   OBSCURE 

against  such  a  tribe  as  this  would  be  as  absurd 
as  to  break  butterflies  upon  a  wheel ;  but 
we  really  think  it  high  time  that  some  protest 
should  be  made  against  the  indefinite  multipli- 
cation of  the  rubbish  for  which  these  people  and 
their  patrons  are  responsible,  and  still  more 
against  its  importation  into  what  purports  to  be 
a  contribution  to  serious  literature.  As  long  as 
these  geniuses  confine  themselves  to  their  proper 
sphere,  the  poets'  corners  of  provincial  news- 
papers, we  have  nothing  to  say.  But  it  becomes 
quite  another  matter  when  the  skill  of  an  inge- 
nious projector  enables — we  are  really  sorry  to 
have  to  speak  so  harshly — a  rabble  of  poetasters 
to  figure  side  by  side  with  poets  of  classical 
fame,  and  to  appear  in  all  the  dignity  of  con- 
tributors to  a  national  anthology.  Yet  such  is 
the  design  of  this  volume,  which  was,  it  seems, 
published  by  subscription,  the  subscribers  being 
for  the  most  part  the  various  candidates  for 
poetical  fame,  who  have  obligingly  sent  their 
portraits  and  their  biographies  for  insertion  in 
Mr.  Kearley  Wright's  "  monumental  work."  As 
Mr.  Kearley  Wright's  collection  begins  with  the 
fifteenth  century,  and  includes  the  really  emi- 
nent poets  who  happen  to  have  been  born  in  the 
West  of  England,  many  of  his  worthies  are 
naturally  apud  plures,  but  the  majority,  in  whose 
honour  the  anthology  appears  to  have  been  com- 
piled, adorn  the  living.  And  very  gratifying  it 
must    be    for    these    gentlemen,    and    for    Mr. 

302 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS   OBSCURE 

Kearley  Wright  himself — for  he  also  has  a 
niche — to  find  themselves  side  by  side  with  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  Herrick,  Gay,  and  Coleridge. 

Mr.  Kearley  Wright's  "company  of  makers" 
is  certainly  a  motley  one.  First  comes  among 
his  living  bards  an  inspired  porter  at  the  Teign- 
mouth  railway  station,  who  asks  in  rapture, — 

"Along  the  glitt'ring  streets  of  gold, 
Amid  the  brilliant  glare, 
Shall  we  God's  banner  there  unfold, 
His  righteous  helmet  wear  ?  " 

At  no  great  distance  follows,  with  a  portrait 
looking  intensely  intellectual,  "  the  manager  of 
the  Bristol  and  South  Wales  Railway  Waggon 
Company,  Limited,"  whose  poems  are  described 
as  "  lacking  here  and  there  logical  sequence  and 
literary  method,"  but  "evincing  undoubtedly 
a  great  poetical  disposition  and  philosophical 
drift."  The  two  poems  which  illustrate  this 
poet's  genius  afford  very  little  proof  either  of 
"  a  great  poetical  disposition  "  or  of  "  a  philoso- 
phical drift,"  but  painfully  conclusive  proof  that 
much  more  is  lacking  than  "logical  sequence  and 
literary  method,"  the  lack  of  which  may  certainly 
be  conceded  as  well.  Next  comes  Mr.  Jonas 
Coaker,  "the  landlord  of  the  Warren  House  Inn," 
whose  verses  "  disclose  a  poetic  spirit,  and,  had 
he  possessed  the  advantages  of  education,  would 
doubtless  have  attracted  some  attention."  Mr. 
Coaker  is  in  the  main  autobiographical. 

303 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS   OBSCURE 

"I  drew  my  breath  first  on  the  moor, 
There  ray  forefathers  dwelled; 
Its  hills  and  dales  I've  traversed  o'er, 
Its  desert  parts  beheld. 

*  *  *  * 

It's  oft  envelop'd  in  a  fog, 
Because  it's  up  so  high." 

And  Mr.  Coaker  continues  in  the  same  strain 
further  than  we  care  to  transcribe.  Then  we 
have  Mr.  John  Goodwin,  "formerly  a  coach- 
guard,  who  sung  of  the  days  when  there  was 
such  a  thing,  if  we  may  so  phrase  it,  as  the 
poetry  of  locomotion."  In  his  poetry,  we  are 
told,  "there  is  a  genuine  ring,"  as  here,  for 
example : — 

"  I  mind  the  time,  when  I  was  guard, 
The  lord,  the  duke,  or  squire 
Would  travel  by  the  old  stage-coach, 
Or  post-chaise  they  would  hire." 

Mr.  Charles  Chorley,  who  is,  we  are  informed, 
submanager  of  the  Truro  Savings  Bank,  in  verses 
which  are  presumably  a  parody  of  Sir  William 
Jones'  Imitation  of  Alcceus,  inquires,  not  without 
a  certain  propriety,  "  What  constitutes  a  mine  ?  " 
On  a  par  with  all  these  are  the  verses  of  the 
bard  who  "  in  summer  hawked  gooseberries  and 
in  winter  shoelaces,"  and  those  of  the  "unedu- 
cated journeyman  woolcomber." 

Now,  we  need  hardly  say  that  the  humble 
vocations  of  these  poets  are  neither  derogatory 
to  them  nor  in  any  way  detrimental  to  merit 

304 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS   OBSCURE 

where  merit  exists  ;  but  there  is  no  merit  what- 
ever in  the  poems  assigned  to  them  in  this 
volume  ;  they  are  simply  such  poems  as  hawkers, 
woolcombers,  railway  porters,  and  submanagers 
of  provincial  banks — "  who  pen  a  stanza  when 
they  should  engross " — might  be  expected  to 
write.  The  same  may  be  said  of  almost  every 
copy  of  verses,  produced  by  amateurs,  to  be  found 
in  this  collection.  We  have  scarcely  noticed  a 
single  poem  which  rises  above  mediocrity ;  a 
very  large  proportion  are  below  even  a  mediocre 
standard — they  are  simply  rubbish.  In  one  poet 
only,  among  those  whose  names  were  not  before 
known  to  us,  do  we  discern  genius,  and  that  is 
in  Mr.  John  Dryden  Hosken,  whose  poem,  en- 
titled My  Masters,  is  really  excellent. 

The  editor  of  this  anthology  is  plainly  incom- 
petent, both  in  point  of  taste  and  critical  discern- 
ment, and  in  point  of  knowledge,  for  the  task 
which  he  has  undertaken.  The  first  is  proved  by 
the  extracts  which  he  has  selected  from  the  works 
of  well-known  poets.  Coleridge,  for  example, 
is  represented  by  two  comparatively  inferior 
poems,  The  Devils  Thoughts  and  Fancy  in  Nuhi- 
bus ;  Thomas  Carew,  by  two  short  poems,  one 
of  which  is  probably  the  worst  he  ever  wrote ; 
Herrick,  by  two  of  his  very  worst ;  Praed,  by  two 
of  the  feeblest  and  least  characteristic  of  his 
poems ;  Walcot,  by  mere  trash.  It  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  their  less  illustrious  brethren  may 
have  suffered  from  the  deplorable  inability  of 
E.G.  305  U 


THE   ILLUSTRIOUS   OBSCURE 

this  editor  to  discern  between  what  is  good  and 
what  is  bad.  Certainly  Capern,  who  was  a  poet 
wi^h  a  touch  of  genius,  suffers,  for  the  lyric 
given  is  very  far  indeed  from  representing  or 
illustrating  his  best  or  even  his  characteristic 
work.  In  giving  an  account  of  Alexander  Bar- 
clay, who,  by  the  way,  is  called  Andrew  in  the 
Preface,  Mr.  Wright  says  nothing  about  his 
most  important  poems — his  Eclogues.  If  Eus- 
tace Budgell  is  included  among  the  poets,  why 
are  not  his  poems  specified  and  represented  ? 
Of  Aaron  Hill  it  is  observed  that  "  neither  his 
reputation  as  a  poet  nor  his  connexion  with  the 
county  of  Devon  is  sufficient  to  warrant  more 
than  a  mere  notice  of  his  name."  Aaron  Hill 
was  the  author  of  more  than  one  poem  of  con- 
spicuous merit.  The  verses  attributed  on  page 
488  to  Sir  William  Yonge  were  written  by  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu.  But  these  are  trifles. 
What  we  wish  to  protest  against  is  the  foisting 
of  such  volumes  as  these  on  our  libraries ;  and 
it  is  appalling  to  learn  that  it  is  the  intention  of 
Mr.  Kearley  Wright,  if  he  is  sufficiently  encour- 
aged by  subscribers,  to  follow  this  with  another 
similar  collection.  If  poets  like  these  wish  to 
gratify  their  vanity,  let  them  not  gratify  it  to 
the  detriment  of  serious  literatur^  for,  if  the 
few  can  discriminate,  the  many  cannot,  and  the 
multiplication  of  works  like  these  must  infallibly 
tend  to  lower  the  standard  of  current  literature, 
by  furthering  the  disastrous  "cult  of  the  average 

306 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  OBSCURE 

man."  In  our  opinion  criticism  can  have  no 
more  imperative  duty  than  to  discountenance 
and  discourage  in  every  way  such  projectors  as 
Mr.  Kearley  Wright  and  such  poets  as  those  for 
whose  merits  he  and  critics  like  him  stand  spon- 
sors. 


307 


VIRGIL  IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS^ 

SIR  GEORGE  OSBORNE  MORGAN  has 
served  his  generation  in  much  more  im- 
portant capacities  than  those  of  a  scholar  and  a 
translator  of  Virgil,  and  had  this  little  work, 
therefore,  been  less  meritorious  than  it  is,  no 
critic  with  a  sense  of  the  becoming  would  deal 
harshly  with  it.  But  it  challenges  and  deserves 
serious  consideration,  not  only  as  an  attempt  to 
solve  a  problem  of  singular  interest  to  students 
of  classical  poetry,  but  as  a  somewhat  ambitious 
contribution  to  the  literature  of  translation. 
Sir  Osborne  Morgan  is,  however,  mistaken  in 
supposing  that  in  translating  Virgil  into  his 
own  metre  he  "  has  undertaken  a  task  which 
has  never  been  attempted  before."  In  1583 
Richard  Stanihurst  published  a  translation  of 
the  first  four  books  of  the  ^neid  in  English 
hexameters ;  and,  if  Sir  Osborne  will  turn  to 
Webbe's  Discourse  of  English  Poetrie,  published 
as  early  as  1586,  ho  will  find  versions  in  English 

*  The  Eclogiies  of  Virgil.  Translated  into  English 
Hexameter  Verse  by  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Gteorge  Osborne 
Morgan,  Bart.,  Q.C.,  M.P.    London. 

308 


VIRGIL  IN   ENGLISH  HEXAMETERS 

hexameters  of  the  First  and  Second  Eclogues, 
while  Abraham  BVaunce,  in  a  curious  volume, 
entitled  The  Countess  of  Pembroke  s  Ivy  Church, 
which  appeared  in  1591,  has,  among  the  other 
hexameters  in  the  collection,  given  a  version  of 
the  Second  Eclogue  in  this  measure.  But  Sir 
Osborne  Morgan  has  been  more  immediately 
anticipated  in  his  experiment.  In  1838  Dr. 
James  Blundell  published  anonymously,  under 
the  title  of  HexametHcal  Eocperiments,  versions 
in  hexameters  of  the  First,  Fourth,  Sixth,  and 
Tenth  Eclogues,  and  to  this  translation  he  pro- 
fixed  an  elaborate  preface,  vindicating  the  em- 
ployment of  the  hexameter  in  English,  and  ex- 
plaining its  mechanism  to  the  unlearned.  Indeed, 
Blundell  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion  as  Sir 
Osborne  Morgan,  that  the  proper  medium  for  an 
English  translation  of  hexametrical  poems  in 
Greek  and  Latin  is  the  English  hexameter.  We 
may,  however,  hasten  to  add  that  Sir  Osborne 
ha^  little  to  fear  from  a  comparison  with  his 
predecessors,  who  have,  indeed,  done  their  best 
to  refute  by  example  their  own  theory.  It  may 
be  observed,  in  passing,  that  the  translations  of 
Virgil  into  rhymed  decasyllabic  verse  are  far 
more  numerous  than  Sir  Osborne  Morgan  seems 
to  suppose.  Ho  is,  he  says,  acquainted  only 
with  two — the  version  by  Dryden  and  Joseph 
Warton — not  seeming  to  bo  aware  that  Warton 
translated  only  the  Georgics  and  Eclogues, 
printing   Pitt's    version    of    the    JEneid.       fbe 

309 


VIRGIL  IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

whole  of  Virgil  was  translated  into  this 
measure  by  John  Ogilvie  between  1649-50,  and 
by  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale  about  1716,  while 
versions  of  the  jiEneid,  the  Georgics,  and  the 
Eclogues,  in  the  same  metre,  have  abounded  in 
every  era  of  our  literature,  from  Gawain 
Douglas's  translation  of  the  ^neid  printed  in 
1553,  to  Archdeacon  Wranghara's  version  of  the 
Eclogues  in  1830. 

It  is  no  reproach  to  Sir  Osborne  Morgan  that, 
in  the  occupations  of  a  busy  political  life,  his 
scholarship  should  have  become  a  little  rusty, 
but  it  is  a  pity  that  he  should  so  often  have 
allowed  himself  to  be  caught  tripping,  when  a 
little  timely  counsel  in  the  correction  of  his 
proof  sheets  might  have  prevented  this.  In 
the  First  Eclogue  the  line 

"  Non  insueta  graves  temptabunt  pabula  fetas " 
is  translated 

"Here    no    unwonted    herb    shall    tempt    the    travailing 
cattle." 

What  it  really  means  is,  no  change  of  fodder, 
no  fodder  which  is  strange  to  them,  shall 
"infect"  or  "try"  the  pregnant  cattle, 
"  insueta  "  being  used  in  exactly  the  same  sense 
as  in  Eclogue  V.  50,  "  insuetum  miratur  limen 
Olympi,"  and  "  temptare  "  as  it  is  used  in  Georg. 
III.  441,  and  commonly  in  classical  Latin.  It  is, 
to  say  the  least,  questionable  whether  in  the 
couplet — 

310 


VIRGIL  IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

"Pauperis  et  tug^ri  congestum  ceespite  culmen, 
Post  aliquot,  mea  regna  videns,  mirabor  aristas?" — 

the  last  line  can  mean 

"Gaze  on  the  straggling  corn,  the  remains  of  what  once 
was  my  kingdom." 

"Aristas"  is  much  more  likely  to  be  a  meto- 
nymy for  "  messes,"  i.e.  "  annos,"  like  aporov  in 
Sophocles'  Trcichinice,  69,  tov  fi€v  irapeXOovr 
aporov,  a  confirmative  illustration  which  seems 
to  have  escaped  the  commentators ;  but  it  is 
difficult  to  say,  and  Sir  Osborne  has,  it  must  be 
owned,  excellent  authority  for  his  interpreta- 
tion.     In    Eclogue   III.   the   somewhat  difficult 

passage 

"pocula  ponam 
Fagina    .    .    . 

Lenta  quibus  tonio  facili  superaddita  vitis 
Diffusos  hedera  vestit  pallente  corymbos  " — 

i.e.  "where  the  limber  vine  wreathed  round 
them  by  the  deft  graving  tool  is  twined  with 
pale  ivy's  spreading  clusters," — is  translated  : 

"Over  whose  side  the  vine    by  a  touch  of    the  graving 
tool  added 
Mantles  its  clustering  grapes  in  the  paler  leaves  of   the 
ivy." 

This  is  quite  wrong.  "  Corymbos  "  cannot  pos- 
sibly mean  clusters  of  grapes,  but  clusters  of  ivy 
berries,  "  hederA,  pallente  "  being  substituted, 
after  Virgil's  manner,  for  "  hedersB  pallentis." 
In  Eclogue  IV.  24  there  is  no  reason  for 
supposing    that   the    "  fallax    herba  veneni "    is 

311 


VIRGIL   IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

hemlock ;  it  is  much  more  likely  to  be  aconite. 
In  line  45  "  sandyx  "  should  be  translated  not 
'•  purple "  but  "  crimson,"  vague  as  the  colour 
indicated  by  "  purple  "  is.     In  Eclogue  V. 

"Si  quos  aut  Phyllidis  ignes, 
Aut  Alconis  habes  laudes,  aut  jurgia  Codri " 

IS  not 

"  Phyllis's   fiery   loves    you  would  sing  or  the  quarrels  of 
Codrus," 

but  "your  passion  for  Phyllis,  your  invectives 
against  Codrus,"  "  ignes "  being  used  far  more 
becomingly  for  a  man's  love  than  for  a  woman's. 
So,  again,  "  pro  purpureo  narcisso "  cannot 
mean  what  nature  never  saw,  "  purple  daffodil," 
but  the  white  narcissus.  In  Eclogue  VIII. 
"  Sophocleo  tua  carmina  digna  cothurno "  is 
turned  by  what  is  obviously  a  lapsus  calami, 
"  worthy  of  Sophocles'  sock."  A  scholar  like 
Sir  Osborne  Morgan  does  not  need  reminding 
that  the  "  sock  "  is  a  metonymy  for  Comedy,  as 
Milton  anglicizes  it  in  L' Allegro,  "if  Jonson's 
learned  sock  be  on."  In  the  exquisite  passage 
in  Eclogue  VIII.  41— 

"  Jam  fragiles  poteram  ab  terrfi,  contingere  ramos  " — 

to  translate  "  fragiles  "  as  "  frail "  is  to  miss  the 
whole  point  of  the  epithet.  What  Virgil  means 
is,  "  I  could  just  reach  the  branches  from  the 
ground  and  break  them  off "  ;  if  it  is  to  be  trans- 
lated by  one  epithet,  it  must  be  "brittle." 
Again  in  the  Ninth  Eclogue  the  words 

312 


VIRGIL  IN  ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

"qua  se  svbducere  colles 
Tnctpiuntj  mollique  jugum  demittere  clivo," 

do  not  mean  "  where  the  hills  with  gentle 
depression  steal  away  into  the  plain,"  but  the 
very  opposite  :  i.e.  *'  Where  the  hills  begin  to 
draw  themselves  up  from  the  plain,"  the  ascent 
being  contemplated  from  below.  In  Eclogue 
IX.,  in  turning  the  couplet 

"  Nam  neque  adhuc  Vario  videor,  nee  dicere  CinnS, 
Digna,  sed  argutos  inter  strepere  anser  olores," 

the  translator  has  no  authority  for  turning  the 
last  verse  into  "  a  cackling  goose  in  a  chorus  of 
Oygnets,"  for  there  is  no  tradition  that  cygnets 
sang,  and  goose  should  have  been  printed  w^ith  a 
capital  letter  to  preserve  the  pun,  the  allusion 
being  to  a  poetaster  named  Anser.  Unfortu- 
nately for  the  English  translator,  our  literature 
can  boast  no  counterpart  to  "Anser"  totidem 
liteHs,  but  Goose  printed  with  a  capital  is  near 
enough  to  preserve,  or  suggest  the  sarcasm. 
There  is  another  slip  in  Eclogue  X.  :  "  Ferulas  " 
is  not  "  wands  of  willow  "  but  "  fennel." 

Occasionally  a  touch  is  introduced  which  is 
neither  authorized  by  the  original,  nor  true  to 
nature.  There  is  nothing,  for  instance  to 
warrant,  in  Eclogue  I.  56,  the  epithet  "  odorous" 
as  applied  to  the  willow,  nor  does  "  salictum  " 
mean  a  "  willow "  but  a  *'  willow-bed  or  plan- 
tation." To  translate  "  ubi  tempus  erit "  by 
"  when  the  hour  shall  have  struck "  reminds 
us    of    Shakespeare's   famous   anachronism    in 

313 


VIRGIL   IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

Julius  Ccesar  and  is  as  surprising  in  the  work 
of  a  scholar  as  the  lengthening  of  the  penul- 
timate in  arbutus,  "  Sweet  is  the  shower  to  the 
blade,  To  the  newly  weaned  kid  the  arbutus." 
As  a  rule,  the  translator  turns  difficult  pas- 
sages very  skilfully,  but  this  is  not  the  case  with 
the  couplet  which  concludes  the  "  Pollio  "  : — 

"  Incipe,  parve  puer :  cui  non  risere  parentes 
Nee  deus  hunc  mens§.,  dea  nee  dignata  cubili  est"; 

that  is,  the  "  babe  on  whom  the  parent  nevei 
smiled,  no  god  ever  deemed  worthy  of  his  board, 
no  goddess  of  her  bed  " — in  other  words,  he  can 
never  enjoy  the  rewards  of  a  hero  like  Her- 
cules; but  there  is  neither  sense  nor  skill,  and 
something  very  like  a  serious  grammatical 
error,  in 

"  Who  knows  not  the  smile  of  a  parent, 
Neither  the  board  of    a    god    nor  the  bed  of  a  goddess  is 
worthy." 

But  to  turn  from  comparative  trifles.  No 
one  who  reads  this  version  of  the  Eclogues  can 
doubt  that  Sir  Osborne  Morgan  has  proved  his 
point,  that  the  English  hexameter,  when  skil- 
fully used,  is  the  measure  best  adapted  for 
reproducing  Virgil's  music  in  English.  The 
following  passage  {Ec.  VII.  45-48)  is  happily 
turned ;  let  us  place  the  original  beside  the 
translation  : — 

"  Muscosi  fontes  et  somno  mollior  herba, 
Et  qu8B  vos  rara  viridis  tegit  arbutus  umbra, 
Solstitium  peeori  defendite  :  jam  venit  sestas 
Torrida,  jam  Iseto  turgent  in  palmite  gemmse." 
314 


VIRGIL  IN  ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

"Moss-g^wn    fountains    and    sward  more   soft  than  the 

softest  of  slumbers, 
Arbutus  tree  that  flings  over  both  its  flickering  shadows, 
Shelter  my  flock  from  the  sun.     Already  the  summer  is 

on  us, 
Summer  that  scorches  up  all !     See  the  bud  on  the  glad 

vine  is  swelling." 

Again  {Ec.  X.  41-48)  :— 

"Serta  mihi  Phyllis  legeret,  cantaret  Amyntas; 
Hie  gelidi  fontes,  hie  mollia  prata,  Lycori, 
Hie  nemus:   hie  ipso  tecum  consumerer  sevo. 
Nunc  insanus  amor  duri  me  Martis  in  armis 
Tela  inter  media  atque  adversos  detinet  hostes : 
Tu  procul  a  patriH — nee  sit  mihi  credere  tantum ! — 
Alpinas,  ah  dura,  nives  et  frigora  Rheni 
Me  sine  sola  vides." 

"  Phyllis  would  gather  me  flowers  and  Amyntas  a  melody 

chant  me ; 
Cool  is   the  fountain's  wave  and    soft    is    the   meadow, 

Lycoris ; 
Shady  the  grove !     Here  with  thee  I  would  die  of  old 

age  in  the  greenwood. 
Mad   is  the   lust  of  war,  that  now  in  the  heart  of  the 

battle 
Chains  me  where  darts  fall  fast,  and  the  charge  of  the 

foemen  is  fiercest. 
Far,  far  away  from  j'our  home — Oh,  would  that  I  might 

not  believe  it — 
Lost  amid  Alpine  snows  or  the  frozen  desolate  Rhine- 
land, 
Lonely  without  me  you  wander." 

Many  other  felicitous  passages  might  be 
quoted ;  indeed,  there  is  no  Eclogue  without 
them ;  but  the  translator  is  not  sure-footed, 
and,  if  he  occasionally  illustrates  the  hexameter 
in  its  excellence,   he  illustrates,  unhappily    too 

315 


VIRGIL  IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

often,  some  of  its  worst  defects.  Two  qualities 
are  indispensable  to  the  success  of  this  measure 
in  English.  Our  language,  unlike  the  classical 
languages,  being  accentual  and  not  quantitative, 
if  the  long  syllable  is  not  represented  where  the 
stress  naturally  falls,  and  the  short  syllables 
where  it  does  not  fall,  the  effect  is  sometimes 
grotesque,  sometimes  distressing,  and  always 
unsatisfactory.  Nothing,  for  example,  could 
be  worse  in  their  various  ways  than  the 
following : — 

"Wept  when  you  saw  they  were  given  the  lad,  and  had 

you  not  managed." 
"  Let  not  the  frozen  air  harm  you." 
"  Scatter  the  sand  with  his  hind  hoofs." 
"  The  pliant  growth  of  the  osier." 
"  Worthy  of  Sophocles'  sock,  trumpet-tongued  through  the 

Universe  echo.  " 
"  Own'd  it  himself,  and  yet  he  would  not  deliver  it  to  me." 

A  very  nice  ear,  too,  is  required  to  adjust  the 
collocation  of  words  in  which  either  vowels  or 
consonants  predominate,  and  the  relative  posi- 
tion of  monosyllabic  and  polysyllabic  words, 
the  predominance  of  the  former  in  our 
language  increasing  enormously  the  difficulty. 
No  measure,  moreover,  so  easily  runs  into 
intolerable  monotony  —  a  monotony  which 
Clough  sought  to  avoid  by  overweighting  his 
verses  with  spondees,  and  which  Longfellow 
illustrates  by  the  cloying  predominance  of  the 
dactylic  movement.  Sir  Osborne  Morgan  tells 
us     that     he     took     Kingsley    as    his    model. 

316 


VIRGIL  IN   ENGLISH   HEXAMETERS 

Kingsley's  hexameters  are  respectable,  but  they 
have  no  distinction,  and  he  had  certainly  not  a 
good  ear.  Longfellow's  are  far  better,  and  are 
sometimes  exquisitely  felicitous,  as  in  a  couplet 
like  the  following,  which,  with  the  exception  of 
one  word,  is  flawless  : — 

"Men  whose  lives  glided  on  like  the  rivers  that  water 
the  woodlands, 
Darken'd  by  shadows   of  earth,  but   reflecting  an  image 
of  Heaven." 

Probably  the  best  hexameters  which  have  been 
composed  in  English  are  those  in  William 
Watson's  Hymn  to  the  Sea  and  those  in  which 
Hawtry  translated  Iliad  III.  234-244,  and  the 
parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache  in  the 
Sixth  Iliad,  models — these  versions — not  merely 
of  translation,  but  of  hexametrical  structure. 
There  are,  however,  certain  magical  effects, 
particularly  in  the  Virgilian  hexameter,  pro- 
duced by  an  exquisite  but  audacious  tact  in 
the  employment  of  licences,  which  can  never 
be  reproduced  in  English. 
Such  would  be — 

"  Nam  neque  Pamassi  vobis  juga,  nam  neque  Pindi 
Ulla  moram  fecere,  neque  Aonie  Aganippe. 
Ilium  etiam  lauri,  etiam  Severe  myricse ; 
Pinifer  ilium  etiam  solS  sub  rupe  jacentem 
Meenalus  et  gelidi  fleverunt  saxa  Lyceei." 

Milton,  and  Milton  alone  among  Englishmen, 
had  the  secret  of  this  music,  but  he  elicited 
it  from  another  instrument. 

317 


THE  LATEST  EDITION  OF  THOMSON ' 

JACOB  THOMSON,  ein  vergessener  Dichter 
des  achtzehnten  Jahrhunderts " — a  for- 
gotten poet  of  the  eighteenth  century — such  is 
the  title  of  a  recent  monograph  on  the  author 
of  The  Seasons  by  Dr.  G.  Schmeding.  Dr.  G. 
Schmeding  is,  however,  so  obliging  as  to  pro- 
nounce that,  in  his  opinion,  this  ought  not  to  be 
Thomson's  fate  ;  that  there  remains  in  his  work, 
especially  in  The  Seasons  merit  enough  to 
entitle  him  to  be  "  enrolled  among  poets,"  and 
to  find  appreciation,  at  all  events  in  schools  and 
reading  societies.  Dr.  Schmeding  may  rest 
assured  that  Thomson's  fame  is  quite  safe.  It 
has  no  doubt  suffered,  as  that  of  all  the  poets 
of  the  eighteenth  century  has  suffered,  by  the 
great  revolution  which  has,  in  the  course  of  the 
last  ninety  years,  passed  over  literary  tastes  and 
fashions.  But  during  the  present  century  there 
have  been  no  less  than  twenty  editions  of   his 

*  The  Poetical  Works  of  James  Thomson.  A  New 
Edition,  with  Memoir  and  Critical  Appendices,  by  the  Rev. 
D.  C.  Tovey.    2  vols.    London. 

318 


THE  LATEST   EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

poems,  to  say  nothing  of  separate  editions  of  The 
Seasons  ;  while  his  works,  or  portions  of  them, 
have  been  translated  into  German,  Italian,  modern 
Greek,  and  Russian.  Only  two  years  agoM.  Leon 
Morel,  in  his  J.  Thomson,  sa  vie  et  ses  ceuvreSy  pub- 
lished an  elaborate  and  admirable  monograph 
on  this  "  forgotten  poet."  And  now  Mr.  Tovey, 
who,  we  are  glad  to  see,  has  been  appointed 
Clarke  Lecturer  at  Cambridge,  has  given  us  a 
new  biography  of  him  and  a  new  edition  of  his 
works,  making,  if  we  are  not  mistaken,  the  thirty- 
second  memoir  of  him  and  the  twenty-first 
edition  of  his  works  which  have  appeared  since 
the  beginning  of  the  century.  This  is  pretty 
well  for  a  forgotten  poet ! 

Mr.  Tovey 's  name  is  a  sufficient  guarantee  for 
accurate  and  scholarly  work.  But  it  might 
naturally  be  asked,  what  is  there  to  justify  an- 
other edition  of  this  poet,  when  so  many  editions 
are  already  in  the  field  and  so  easily  accessible  ? 
We  have  little  difficulty  in  answering  this  ques- 
tion. The  special  features  of  Mr.  Tovey 's  edition 
are  as  important  as  they  are  interesting.  In  the 
first  place,  he  has  given  us  a  much  fuller  bio- 
graphy than  has  hitherto  appeared  in  English ; 
in  the  second  place,  he  has  thrown  much  inter- 
esting lighten  the  political  bearing  of  Thomson's 
dramas  ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  he  has  given, 
what  no  other  editor  of  Thomson  has  given,  a 
full  collation  of  Thomson's  own  MS.  corrections, 
preserved  in  Mitford's  copy,  now  deposited  in  the 

319 


THE   LATEST   EDITION   OF   THOMSON 

British  Museum.  The  critical  notes  have  cost 
him,  he  says,  and  we  can  quite  believe  it,  much 
time  and  labour,  and  in  his  preface  he  half  apolo- 
gizes for  what  may  seem  "  a  ridiculous  travesty 
of  more  important  labours."  There  was  no 
necessity  for  such  an  apology  :  he  observes  justly 
that  he  has  "  not  spent  more  pains  on  Thomson's 
text  than  so  many  of  our  scholars  bestow  upon 
some  Greek  and  Latin  poets  whose  intrinsic 
merit  is  no  greater  than  Thomson's." 

To  serious  readers  these  critical  notes  will 
constitute  the  most  valuable  part  of  Mr.  Tovey's 
labours ;  they  are,  in  truth,  the  speciality  of  this 
particular  edition,  and  will  make  it  indispens- 
able to  all  students  of  this  most  interesting 
poet.  And  now  Mr.  Tovey  will,  we  trust,  for- 
give us  if,  with  due  deference,  we  point  out 
what  seem  to  us  to  be  defects  in  his  work. 
The  first  thing  that  might  have  been  expected 
from  so  learned  and  careful  an  editor  of 
Thomson  was  an  adequate  discussion  of  the 
great  problem  of  the  authorship  of  Rule  Bri- 
tannia, and  the  second  an  exposure  of  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  "  mare's-nests "  to  be 
found  in  English  literature.  But  nothing,  we 
regret  to  say,  can  be  more  perfunctory  and 
inadequate  than  the  two  notes  in  which  the 
first  question  is  hurried  over  with  references 
to  Notes  and  Queries,  and  nothing  more  irri- 
tating than  the  confusion  worse  confounded 
in   which   Mr.  Tovey   leaves   the   second.      We 

320 


THE  LATEST   EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

shall  therefore  make  no  apology  for  entering 
somewhat  at  length  into  both  these  questions, 

And  first  for  the  authorship  of  Rule  Britannia. 
The  facts  are  these.  In  1740  Thomson  and 
Mallet  wrote,  in  conjunction,  a  masque  entitled 
Alfred,  which,  on  1st  August  in  that  year,  was 
represented  before  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Wales  at  Clifden.  It  was  in  two  acts,  and 
it  contained  six  lyrics,  the  last  being  Rule 
Britannia,  which  is  entitled  an  "  Ode,"  the 
music  being  by  Dr.  Arne.  In  1745  Arne  turned 
the  piece  into  an  opera,  and  also  into  "  a 
musical  drama."  By  this  time  the  lyric  had 
become  very  popular,  but  there  is  no  evidence 
to  show  that  it  had  been  definitely  attributed  to 
either  of  the  coadjutors.  In  1748  Thomson  died. 
In  1751  Mallet  re-issued  Alfred,  but  in  another 
form.  It  was  entirely  remodelled,  and  almost 
entirely  re-written,  and,  in  an  advertisement  pre- 
fixed to  the  work,  he  says :  "  According  to  the 
present  arrangement  of  the  fable  I  was  obliged 
to  reject  a  great  deal  of  what  I  had  written  in 
the  other :  neither  could  I  retain,  of  my  friend's 
part,  more  than  three  or  four  speeches,  and  a  part 
of  one  song."  Now,  of  the  parts  retained  from 
the  former  work,  there  were  the  first  three 
stanzas  of  Rule  Bintannia,  the  three  others  being 
excised,  and  their  place  supplied  by  three  stanzas 
written  by  Lord  Bolingbroke.  If  Mallet  is  to  be 
believed,  then,  "part  of  one  song"  must  refer, 
either  to  a  song  in  the  thi^'d  scene  of  the  second 

E.G.  321  X 


THE   LATEST   EDITION   OP  THOMSON 

act,  beginning  "From  those  eternal  regions 
bright,"  or  to  Rule  Britannia,  for  these  are  the 
only  lyrics  in  which  portions  of  the  lyrics  in  the 
former  edition  are  retained.  Rule  Britannia  is, 
it  is  true,  entitled  "An  Ode"  in  the  former  edition, 
and  the  other  lyric  "  A  Song,"  so  that  Mallet 
would  certainly  seem  to  imply  that  what  he 
had  retained  of  his  friend's  work  was  the  portion 
of  the  song  referred  to,  and  not  Rule  Britannia. 
But,  as  Mallet  was  notoriously  a  man  who  could 
not  be  believed  on  oath,  and  was  an  adept  in 
all  those  bad  arts  by  which  little  men  filch  hon- 
ours which  do  not  belong  to  them,  if  he  is  to  be 
allowed  to  have  any  title  to  the  honour  of  com- 
posing this  lyric,  it  ought  to  rest  on  something 
better  than  the  ambiguity  between  the  word 
"  Ode  "  and  the  word  "  Song." 

There  is  no  evidence  that,  while  both  were 
alive,  either  Thomson  or  Mallet  claimed  the 
authorship ;  but  this  is  certain,  it  was  printed  at 
Edinburgh,  during  Mallet's  lifetime,  in  the  second 
edition  of  a  well-known  song  book,  entitled  The 
Charmer,  with  Thomson's  initials  appended  to 
it.  It  is  certain  that  Mallet  had  friends  in 
Edinburgh,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that  neither 
he  nor  any  of  his  friends  raised  any  objection  to 
its  ascription  to  Thomson.  In  1743,  in  1759,  and 
in  1762  Mallet  published  collections  of  poems, 
but  in  none  of  these  collections  does  he  lay  claim 
to  Rule  Britannia,  and,  though  it  was  printed  in 
song-books    in    1749,   1750,   and   1761,   it  is   in 

322 


THE  LATEST   EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

no  case  assigned  to  Mallet.  None  of  his  con- 
temporaries, so  far  as  we  know,  attributed  it  to 
him,  and  it  is  remarkable  that,  in  a  brief  obituary 
notice  of  him  which  appeared  in  the  Scots 
Magazine  in  1765,  he  is  spoken  of  as  the  author 
of  the  famous  ballad  William  and  Margaret,  but 
not  a  word  is  said  about  Rule  Britannia.  A 
further  presumption  in  Thomson's  favour  is  this : 
in  all  probability  Dr.  Arne,  who  set  it  to  music, 
know  the  authorshfp,  and  he  survived  both 
Thomson  and  Mallet,  dying  in  1778.  The  song 
had  become  very  popular  and  celebrated,  so  that 
if  Mallet  had  desired  to  have  the  credit  of 
its  composition,  it  is  strange  that  he  should 
not  have  laid  claim  to  it,  had  his  claim  been 
a  good  one.  But  if  his  claim  was  not  good, 
he  could  hardly  have  ventured  to  claim  the 
authorship,  as  Dr.  Arno  would  have  been  in  his 
way.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  ambiguity  in 
the  advertisement  to  the  recension  of  1751  was 
designed  ;  it  certainly  left  the  question  open, 
and  we  cannot  but  think  there  is  something 
very  suspicious  in  what  follows  the  sentence  in 
Mallet's  advertisement,  where  he  speaks  of  his 
having  used  so  little  of  his  friend's  work.  "  I 
mention  this  expressly,"  ho  adds,  "that,  whatever 
faults  are  found  in  the  present  performance, 
they  may  be  charged,  as  they  ought  to  be, 
entirely  to  my  account."  A  vainer  and  more 
unscrupulous  man  than  Mallet  never  existed  ; 
and,  while  it  is  simply  incredible  that  ho  should 

323 


THE  LATEST  EDITION  OF  THOMSON 

not  have  claimed  what  would  have  constituted 
his  chief  title  to  popularity  as  a  poet,  had  he 
been  able  to  do  so,  it  is  in  exact  accordance  with 
his  established  character  that  he  should,  as  he 
did  in  the  advertisement  of  1751,  have  left  him- 
self an  opportunity  of  asserting  that  claim,  should 
those  who  were  privy  to  the  secret  have  pre- 
deceased him,  and  thus  enabled  him  to  do  so 
with  impunity. 

The  internal  evidence — and  on  this  alone  the 
question  must  now  be  argued — seems  to  us  con- 
clusive in  Thomson's  favour.  The  Ode  is  simply 
a  translation  into  lyrics  of  what  finds  embodi- 
ment in  Thomson's  Britannia,  in  the  fourth 
and  fifth  parts  of  Liberty ,  and  in  his  Verses  to 
the  Prince  of  Wales.  Coming  to  details,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  third  stanza — 

"Still  more  majestic  shalt  thou  rise, 

More  dreadful  from  each  foreign  stroke  ; 
As  the  loud  blast  that  tears  the  skies 
Serves  but  to  root  thy  native  oak  "— 

was  suggested  by  Horace's 

"Duris  ut  ilex  tonsa  bipennibus 
Nigrse  feraci  frondis  in  Algido, 
Per  damna,  per  csedes,  ab  ipso 
Ducit  opes  animumque  ferro." 

Now,  not  only  was  Horace,  as  innumerable 
imitations  and  reminiscences  prove,  one  of 
Thomson's  favourite  poets,  but  Thomson  has,  in 
the  third  part  of  Liberty  translated  this  very 
passage  : — 

324 


THE  LATEST  EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

''  Like  an  oak, 
Nurs'd  on  feracious  Algidum,  whose  boughs 
Still  stronger  shoot  beneath  the  rigid  axe 
By  loss,  by  slaughter,  from  the  steel  itself 
E'en  force  and  spirit  drew." 

He  has,  elsewhere,  two  other  reminiscences  of 
the  same  passage,  once  in  the  third  part  of 
Liberty — 

"Every  tempest  sung 
Innoxious  by,  or  bade  it  firmer  stand"— 

and  once  in  Sophonisba  (Act  V.  sc.  ii.)  : — 

"  Thy  rooted  worth 
Has  stood  these  wintry  blasts,  grown  stronger  by  them." 

The  epithet  "  azure "  employed  in  the  first 
stanza  is,  with  "  cerulean  "  and  "  aerial,"  one  of 
the  three  commonest  epithets  in  Thomson,  the 
three  occurring  at  least  twenty  times  in  his 
poetry.  A  somewhat  cursory  examination  of 
his  works  has  enabled  us  to  find  that  "  azure  "  or 
"azured"  alone  occurs  ton  times.  "Generous," 
too,  in  the  Latin  sense  of  the  term,  is  another 
of  his  favourite  words,  it  being  used  no  less 
than  sixteen  times  in  Britannia  and  Liberty 
alone.  Another  of  his  favourite  allusions  is  to 
England's  "native  oaks."  Thus  in  Britannia 
he  speaks  of — 

"  Your  oaks,  peculiar  harden'd,  shoot 
Strong  into  sturdy  growth  ;  " 

in  the  last  part  of  Liberty  we  find  "  Let  her  own 
naval  oak  be  basely  torn,"  and  in  the  same  part 

325 


THE  LATEST  EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

of  the  poem  he  speaks  of  the  "  venerable  oaks  " 
and  "kindred  floods."  The  epithet  "manly"  and 
the  phrase  "  the  fair  " — "  manly  hearts  to  guard 
the  fair  " — are  also  peculiarly  Thomsonian,  being 
repeatedly  employed  by  him,  the  phrase  "  the 
fair  "  occurring  in  his  poetry  at  least  six  times, 
if  not  oftener.  "  Flame,"  too,  is  another  of  his 
favourite  words. 

"  All  their  attempts  to  bend  thee  down 
Will  but  arouse,"  etc., 

is  exactly  the  sentiment  in  Britannia. 

"  Your  hearts 
Swell  with  a  sudden  courage,  growing  still 
As  danger  grows." 

The  stanza  beginning  "  To  thee  belongs,"  etc.,  is 
simply  a  lyrical  paraphrase  of  the  passage  in 
Britannia  commencing  "  Oh  first  of  human 
blessings,"  and  of  a  couplet  in  the  last  part  of 
Liberty : — 

*'  The  winds  and  seas  are  Britain's  wide  domain. 
And  not  a  sail  but  by  permission  spreads." 

The  couplet 

"  All  thine  shall  be  the  subject  main, 
And  every  shore  it  circles  thine  " 

is  simply  the  echo  of  a  couplet  in  the  fifth  part 
of  Liberty — 

"  All  ocean  is  her  own,  and  every  land 
To  whom  her  ruling  thunder  ocean  bears." 

The  phrase  "  blessed  isle,"  as  applied  to  England, 

326 


THE  LATEST  EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

he  employs  three  times  in  Liberty.  Again, 
the  stanza  in  which  Rule  BHtannia  is  written 
is  the  stanza  in  which  the  majority  of  Thomson's 
minor  lyrics  are  written,  and  the  rhythm  and 
cadence,  not  less  than  the  tone,  colour  and 
sentiment,  are  exactly  his. 

Mallet  was  undoubtedly  an  accomplished  man 
and  a  respectable  poet,  as  his  ballad  William 
and  Margaret,  his  Edwin  and  Emma,  and  his 
Birks  of  Invermay  sufficiently  prove,  but  he  has 
written  nothing  tolerable  in  the  vein  of  Rule 
Britannia.  Neatness,  and  tenderness  bordering 
on  effeminacy,  mark  his  characteristic  lyrics,  and, 
if  we  except  a  few  lines  in  his  Tyburn  and 
the  eight  concluding  lines  in  a  poem  entitled 
A  Fragment,  there  is  no  virility  in  his  poetry 
at  all.  Of  the  patriotism  and  ardent  love  of 
liberty  which  pervade  Thomson's  poems,  and 
which  glow  so  intensely  in  Rule  Britannia,  he 
has  absolutely  nothing.  Nor  are  there  any 
analogues  or  parallels  in  his  poems  to  this  lyric 
either  in  form — for  if  we  are  not  mistaken,  he 
has  never  employed  the  stanza  in  which  it  is 
written — or  in  imagery,  or  phraseology.  Like 
Thomson,  whom,  in  his  narrative  blank- verse 
poems,  he  servilely  imitates,  he  is  fond  of  the 
words  "  azure "  and  "  aerial "  ;  and  the  word 
"  azure "  is  the  only  verbal  coincidence  linking 
the  phraseology  of  his  acknowledged  poems 
with  the  lyric  in  question.  It  may  bo  added, 
too,  that  a  man  who  was  capable  of  the  jingling 

327 


THE  LATEST  EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

rubbish  of  such  a  masque  as  Britannia,  and 
who  had  the  execrable  taste  to  substitute  Boling- 
broke's  stanzas  for  the  stanzas  which  they  super- 
sede, could  hardly  have  been  equal  to  the  pro- 
duction of  this  lyric.  We  believe,  then,  that  there 
can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  the  honour  of 
composing  Rule  Britannia  belongs  to  Thomson 
the  bard,  and  not  to  Mallet  the  fribble. 

But  to  return  to  Mr.  Tovey  and  the  "  mare's- 
nest  "  to  which  we  have  referred.  This  mare's- 
nest  is  the  assumption  that  Pope  assisted 
Thomson  in  revising  The  Seasons.  Since  Robert 
Bell's  edition  this  has  come  to  be  received  as  an 
established  fact,  but  we  propose  to  show  that 
it  rests  on  a  hypothesis  demonstrably  baseless. 

There  is,  in  the  British  Museum,  an  interleaved 
copy  of  the  first  volume  of  the  London  edition 
of  Thomson's  works,  dated  1738,  and  the  part  of 
the  volume  which  contains  The  Seasons  is 
full  of  manuscript  deletions,  corrections,  and 
additions.  These  are  in  two  handwritings,  the  one 
being  unmistakably  the  handwriting  of  Thom- 
son, the  other  beyond  all  question  the  hand- 
writing of  some  one  else.  Almost  all  these  cor- 
rections were  inserted  in  the  edition  prepared  for 
the  press  in  1744,  and  now,  consequently,  form 
part  of  the  present  text.  The  corrections  in  the 
hand  which  is  not  the  hand  of  Thomson  are,  in 
many  cases,  of  extraordinary  merit,  showing  a 
fineness  of  ear  and  delicacy  of  touch  quite  above 
the  reach  of  Thomson   himself.     We  will  give 

328 


THE  LATEST  EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

two  or  three  samples.  Thomson  had  written 
in  Autumn  290  seqq.  : — 

"With  harvest  shining  all  these  fields  are  thine, 
And  if  my  rustics  may  presume  so  far, 
Their  master,  too,  who  then  indeed  were  blest 
To  make  the  daughter  of  Acasto  so." 

The  unknown  corrector  substitutes  the  present 
reading : — 

"  The  fields,  the  master,  all,  my  fair,  are  thine  ; 
If  to  the  various  blessings  which  thy  house 
Has  lavished  on  me  thou  wilt  add  that  bliss. 
That  dearest  bliss,  the  power  of  blessing  thee ! " 

The  other  is  famous.     Thomson  had  written : — 

"Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  beauty's  self, 
Recluse  among  the  woods,  if  City-dames 
Will  deign  their  faith.    And  thus  she  went  compell'd 
By  strong  necessity,  with  as  serene 
And  pleased  a  look  as  patience  can  put  on, 
To  glean  Palemon's  fields." 

For  these  vapid  and  dissonant  verses  is  sub- 
stituted by  the  corrector,  who  very  properly 
retains  the  first  verse,  what  is  now  the  text : — 

"  Recluse  amid  the  close  embow'ring  woods. 
As  in  the  hollow  breast  of  Apennine, 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  encircling  hills, 
A  myrtle  rises,  far  from  human  eyes. 
And  breathes  its  balmy  fragrance  o'er  the  wild. 
So  flourished  blooming,  and  unseen  by  all, 
The  sweet  Lavinia,"  etc. 

The  transformation  of  a  single  line  is  often  most 
felicitous  :  thus  in  Winter  the  flat  line 

829 


THE   LATEST   EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

"Through  the  lone  night  that  bids  the  waves  arise" 
is  grandly  altered  into 

"  Through  the  black  night  that  sits  immense  around." 

Thus,  in  Spring,  Thomson  had  merely  written 

"Whose  aged  oaks  and  venerable  gloom 
Invite  the  noisy  rooks  ; " 

but  his  corrector  alters  and  extends  the  pas- 
sage into 

"  Whose  aged  elms  and  venerable  oaks 
Invite  the  rooks,  vv^ho  high  amid  the  boughs 
In  early  spring  their  airy  city  build, 
And  caw  with  ceaseless  clamour." 

Indeed,  throughout  The  Seasons  Thomson's 
indebtedness  to  his  corrector  is  incalculable ; 
many  of  the  most  felicitous  touches  are  due  to 
him.  Now,  who  was  this  corrector?  Let  Mr. 
Tovey  answer.  "  It  has  long  been  accepted  as  a 
fact  among  scholars  that  Pope  assisted  Thomson 
in  the  composition  of  The  Seasons.  Our  original 
authority  is,  we  suppose,  Warton."  The  truth  is 
that  our  original  authority  for  this  statement  is 
neither  Warton  nor  any  other  writer  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  but  simply  the  conjecture  of 
Mitford — in  other  words,  Mitford's  mere  assump- 
tion that  the  handwriting  of  the  corrector  is  the 
handwriting  of  Pope ;  and,  if  we  are  not  mistaken, 
— for  Mitford  may  have  given  earlier  currency  to 
it  in  some  other  place — the  conjecture  appeared 
for  the  first  time  in  Mitford's  edition  of  Gray, 
published  in  1814.     In  his  copy  of  the  volume, 

330 


THE  LATEST  EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

containing  the  MS.  notes,  he  bolsters  up  his  state- 
ment by  two  assertions  and  references :  "  That 
Pope  saw  some  pieces  of  Thomson's  in  manuscript 
is  clear  from  a  letter  in  Bowles's  Supplement, 
page  194"  (an  obvious  misprint  for  294).  But 
on  turning  to  the  references  all  that  we  find  is 
— it  is  in  a  letter  dated  February  173| — "  I  have 
yet  seen  but  three  acts  of  Mr.  Thomson's,  but  I 
am  told,  and  believe  by  what  I  have  seen  that 
it  excels  in  the  pathetic " ;  the  reference  is 
plainly  to  Thomson's  tragedy,  Edicard  and  Eleo- 
nora.  Again,  Mitford  writes  :  "  On  Thomson's 
submitting  his  poems  to  Pope  "  (see  Warton's 
edition,  vol.  viii.,  page  340),  and  again  we  get 
no  proof.  All  that  Pope  says  is,  "  I  am  just 
taken  up" — he  is  writing  to  Aaron  Hill  under 
date  November  1732 — "  by  Mr.  Thomson  in  the 
perusal  of  a  new  poem  ho  has  brought  me ; " 
this  new  poem  being  almost  certainly  Liberty, 
in  the  composition  of  which  Thomson  was  then 
engaged.  So  far  from  the  tradition  having 
any  countenance  from  Warton,  it  is  as  certain 
as  anything  can  be,  that  Warton  knew  nothing 
about  it.  In  his  Essay  on  Pope  he  gives  an 
elaborate  account  of  The  Seasons,  and  he  has 
more  than  once  referred  to  Pope  and  Tliomson 
together ;  but  he  says  not  a  word,  either  in 
this  Essay  or  in  his  edition  of  Pope's  Works, 
about  Pope  having  corrected  Thomson's  poetry. 
If  Pope  assisted  Thomson,  to  the  extent  in- 
dicated  in  these  corrections,  such  an  incident, 

331 


THE  LATEST   EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

considering  the  fame  of  Thomson  and  the 
fame  of  Pope,  must  have  been  known  to 
some  at  least  of  the  innumerable  editors,  bio- 
graphers, and  anecdotists  between  1742  and 
1814.  It  could  hardly  have  escaped  being  re- 
corded by  Murdoch,  Mallet,  or  Warburton,  by 
Ruffhead,  by  Savage  or  Spence,  by  Theophilus 
Gibber  or  Johnson.  It  is  incredible  that  such 
an  interesting  secret  should  have  been  kept 
either  by  Thomson  himself  or  by  Pope.  Again, 
whoever  the  corrector  was,  he  had  a  fine  ear  for 
blank  verse,  and  must  indeed  have  been  a  master 
of  it.  There  is  no  proof  that  Pope  ever  wrote 
in  blank  verse ;  indeed,  we  have  the  express 
testimony  of  Lady  Wortley  Montagu  that  he 
never  attempted  it,  and  his  Shakespeare  con- 
clusively proves  that  he  had  anything  but  a  nice 
ear  for  its  rhythm.  With  all  this  collateral 
evidence  against  the  probability  of  the  corrector 
being  Pope,  we  come  to  the  evidence  which 
should  settle  the  question,  the  evidence  of  hand- 
writing. There  is  no  lack  of  material  for  form- 
ing an  opinion  on  this  point.  Pope's  autograph 
MSS.  are  abundant,  illustrating  his  hand  at  every 
period  in  his  life.  It  is  amazing  to  find  Mitford 
asserting  that  his  friends  Ellis  and  Combe,  at  the 
British  Museum,  had  no  doubt  about  the  hand 
of  the  corrector  being  the  hand  of  Pope.  Mr. 
Tovey  candidly  admits  that,  "if  the  best  authori- 
ties at  the  Museum  many  years  ago  were  positive 
that  the  handwriting  was  Pope's,  their  successors 

332 


THE  LATEST  EDITION  OF  THOMSON 

at  the  present  time  are  equally  positive  that  it 
is  not."  Such  is  the  very  decided  opinion  of  Mr. 
Warner  ;  such,  also,  as  Mr.  Tovey  acknowledges, 
is  the  opinion  of  Professor  Courthope,  and  such, 
we  venture  to  think,  will  be  the  opinion  of  every 
one  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  compare  the 
hands.  Mr.  Tovey  himself  is  plainly  very 
uneasy,  and  indeed  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  "  it 
has  all  along  been  perplexing  to  me  how  the 
opinion  that  this  was  Pope's  handwriting  could 
ever  have  been  conjidently  "  (the  italics  are  his) 
"  entertained "  ;  and  yet  in  his  notes  he  follows 
Bell,  and  inserts  these  corrections  with  Pope's 
initials. 

We  search  in  vain  among  those  who  are 
known  to  have  been  on  friendly  terms  with 
Thomson  for  a  probable  claimant.  It  could  not, 
as  his  other  stupid  revisions  of  Thomson's  verses 
sufficiently  show,  have  been  Lyttloton.  Mallet's 
blank  verse  is  conclusive  against  his  having  had 
any  hand  in  the  corrections.  Collins  and  Ham- 
mond are  out  of  the  question.  It  is  just  pos- 
sible, though  hardly  likely,  that  the  corrector 
was  Armstrong.  He  was  on  very  intimate 
terms  with  Thomson.  His  own  poem  proves 
that  he  could  sometimes  write  excellent  blank 
verse,  but  the  touch  and  rhythm  of  the  correc- 
tions are,  it  must  be  admitted,  not  the  touch 
and  rhythm  of  Armstrong. 

What  has  long,  therefore,  been  represented 
and  circulated   as  an  undisputed  fact — namely, 

333 


THE   LATEST   EDITION   OF  THOMSON 

that  Pope  assisted  Thomson  in  the  revision  of 
The  Seasons — rests  not,  as  all  Thomson's 
modern  editors  have  supposed,  on  the  traditions 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  on  the  testimony 
of  authenticated  handwriting,  but  on  a  mere 
assumption  of  Mitford.  That  the  volume  in 
question  really  belonged  to  Thomson,  and  that 
the  corrections  are  originals,  hardly  admits  of 
doubt,  though  Mitford  gives  neither  the  pedigree 
nor  the  history  of  this  most  interesting  literary 
relic.  It  is,  of  course,  possible  that  the  corrections 
are  Thomson's  own,  and  that  the  differences  in 
the  handwriting  are  attributable  to  the  fact  that 
in  some  cases  he  was  his  own  scribe,  that  in 
others  he  employed  an  amanuensis ;  but  the 
intrinsic  unlikeness  of  the  corrections,  made  in 
the  strange  hand,  to  his  characteristic  style 
renders  this  improbable.  In  any  case  there 
is  nothing  to  warrant  the  assumption  that  the 
corrector  was  Pope. 


334 


CATULLUS   AND    LESBIA.^ 

PERHAPS  the  best  thing  in  this  world  is 
youth,  and  the  poetry  of  Catullus  is  its 
very  incarnation.  The  •'  young  Catullus  "  he  was 
to  his  contemporaries,  and  the  young  Catullus  he 
will  be  to  the  end  of  time.  To  turn  over  his 
pages  is  to  recall  the  days  when  all  within  and 
all  without  conspire  to  make  existence  a  per- 
petual feast,  when  life's  lord  is  pleasure,  its  end 
enjoyment,  its  law  impulse,  before  experience 
and  satiety  have  disillusioned  and  disgusted,  and 
we  are  still  in  Dante's  phrase,  "  trattando  I'ombre 
come  cosa  salda."  And  the  poet  of  youth  had 
the  good  fortune  not  to  survive  youth ;  of  the 
dregs  and  lees  of  the  life  he  chose  he  had  no 
taste.  While  the  cup  which  "  but  sparkles  near 
the  brim"  was  still  sparkling  for  him,  death 
dashed  it  from  his  lips.  At  thirty  his  tale  was 
told, — and  a  radiant  figure,  a  sunny  memory  and 
a  golden  volume  were  immortal. 

'  The  Lesbia  of  Cafiillus.    Arranged   and  translated  by 
J.  H.  A.  Treinenheere.    London. 

335 


CATULLUS  AND  LESBIA 

Revelling  alike  in  the  world  of  nature,  and  in 
the  world  of  man,  at  once  simple  and  intense,  at 
once  playful  and  pathetic,  his  poetry  has  a  fresh- 
ness as  of  the  morning,  an  abandon  as  of  a  child 
at  play.  He  has  not,  indeed,  escaped  the  taint  of 
Alexandrinism  any  more  than  Burns  escaped 
the  taint  of  the  pseudo-classicism  of  the  conven- 
tional school  of  his  day,  but  this  is  the  only  note 
of  falsetto  discernible  in  what  he  has  left  us.  It 
is  when  we  compare  him  with  Horace,  Propertius, 
and  Martial  that  his  incomparable  charm  is  most 
felt.  As  a  lyric  poet,  except  when  patriotic, 
and  when  dealing  with  moral  ideas,  Horace  is 
as  commonplace  as  he  is  insincere ;  he  had  no 
passion ;  he  had  little  pathos ;  he  had  not  much 
sentiment ;  he  had  no  real  feeling  for  nature, 
he  was  little  more  than  a  consummate  crafts- 
man, to  adopt  an  expression  from  Scaliger  *'  ex 
alienis  ingeniis  poeta,  ex  suo  tantum  versificator." 
In  his  Greek  models  he  found  not  merely  his  form, 
but  his  inspiration.  Most  of  his  love  odes  have 
all  the  appearance  of  being  mere  studies  in  fancy. 
When  he  attempts  threnody  he  is  as  frigid  as  Cow- 
ley. Whose  heart  was  ever  touched  by  the  verses 
to  Virgil  on  the  death  of  Quintilian,  or  by  the 
verses  to  Valgius  on  the  death  of  his  son  ?  The 
real  Horace  is  the  Horace  of  the  Satires  and 
Epistles,  and  the  real  Horace  had  as  little  of 
the  temperament  of  a  poet  as  La  Fontaine  and 
Prior.  Propertius  had  passion,  and  he  had  cer- 
tainly some  feeling  for  nature,  but  he  was  an  in- 

336 


CATULLUS  AND   LESBIA 

curable  pedant  both  in  temper  and  in  habit. 
Martial  applied  the  epigram,  in  elegiacs  and  in 
hendecasyllabics,  to  the  same  purposes  to  which 
it  was  applied  by  Catullus,  with  more  brilliance 
and  finish,  but  he  had  not  the  power  of  inform- 
ing trifles  with  emotion  and  soul.  What  became 
with  Catullus  the  spontaneous  expression  of  the 
dominant  mood,  became  in  the  hands  of  Martial 
the  mere  tour  de  force  of  the  ingenious  wit. 
Catullus  is  the  most  Greek  of  all  the  Roman 
poets  ;  Greek  in  the  simplicity,  chastity  and  pro- 
priety of  his  style,  in  his  exquisite  responsiveness 
to  all  that  appeals  to  the  senses  and  the  emotions, 
in  his  ardent  and  abounding  vitality.  But,  in  his 
enthusiasm  for  nature,  in  the  intensity  of  his 
domestic  affections,  and  in  his  occasional  touches 
of  moral  earnestness — and  we  have  seldom  to  go 
far  for  them — he  was  Roman.  His  sketches  from 
nature  are  delightful.  What  could  be  more 
perfect  than  the  following?  Has  even  Tenny- 
son equalled  it  ? — 

Hic,quali3  flatu  placidum  mare  matutino 
Horrificans  2iephyru3  proclivas  incitat  undas, 
Aurora,  exoriente,  vagi  sub  lumina  solis ; 
Quae  tarde  primum  dementi  flamine  pulsse 
Procedunt,  leviterque  sonant  plangore  cachinni: 
Post,  vento  crescente,  magis  magis  increbescunt, 
Purpure^que  procul  nantes  a  luce  refulgent. 

"As  in  early  morning  when  Zephyr's  breath,  ruffling  the 
stilly  sea,  stirs  it  into  slanting  waves  up  against  the  glow  of 
the  travelling  sun;  and  at  first,  while  the  impelling  breeze  is 
gentle,  they  move  in  slow  procession,  and  the  plash  of  their 

E.G.  337  Y 


CATULLUS   AND  LESBIA 

ripples  is  not  loud ;  but  then,  as  the  breeze  freshens,  they 
crowd  faster  and  faster  on,  and  far  out  at  sea,  as  they  float, 
flash  back  the  splendour  of  the  crimsoning  day  in  their  front." 

Or,  again,  in  the  epistle  to  Manlius — 

Qualis  in  aerii  pellucens  vertice  mentis 
Eivus  muscoso  prosilit  e  lapide. 

How  vivid  is  the  picture  of  the  rising  sun 
and  of  early  morning  in  the  Attis,  39-41. 

Ubi  oris  aurei  sol  radiantibus  oculis 
Lustravit  sethera  album,  sola  dura,  mare  ferum, 
Pepulitque  noctis  umbras  vegetis  sonipedibus. 

In  his  "Asian  Myrtle,  in  all  the  beauty  of 
its  blossom-laden  branches,  which  the  Wood- 
Nymphs  feed  with  honey  dew  to  be  their 
toy:"— 

Floridis  velut  enitens 
Myrtus  Asia  ramulis, 
Quos  Hamadryades  Dese 
Ludicrum  sibi  roscido 
Nutriunt  humore.— 

— who  does  not  recognise  Matthew  Arnold's 
"  natural  magic  "  ? 

Flowers  he  loved,  as  Shakespeare  loved  them. 
What  tenderness  there  is  in  the  image  of  the  love 
that  perished — 

Prati 
Ultimi  flos,  preetereunte  postquam 
Tactus  aratro  est, 

(xi.  19-21.) 

— ^in  the  beautiful  simile,  so  often  imitated   in 

338 


CATULLUS  AND   LESBIA 

every  language  in  Europe,  where  the  unmarried 
maiden  is  compared  to  the  uncropped  flower,  Ixii., 
39-45  ;  or  where  in  the 

Alba  par  then  ice, 
Luteumve  papaver, 

(Ixi.  194-B.) 

he  sees  the  symbol  of  maidenhood ;  or  where 
Ariadne  is  compared  to  the  myrtles  on  the  banks 
of  the  Eurotas,  and  to  the  "  flowers  of  diverse 
hues  which  the  spring  breezes  evoke "  ;  and, 
again,  the  exquisite  simile  picturing  the  hus- 
band's love  binding  fast  the  bride's  thoughts, 
as  a  tree  is  entwined  in  the  clinging  clasp  of 
the  gadding  ivy — 

Mentem  amore  revinciens, 
Ut  tenax  hedera  hue  et  hue 

Arborem  implicat  errans. 

Then  we  have  the  garland  of  Priapus  with  its 
felicitous  epithets  (xix.,  xx.). 

It  may  be  said  of  Catullus  as  Shelley  said  of 
his  Alastor — 

Every  sight 
And  sound  from  the  vast  earth  and  ambient  air 
Sent  to  his  heart  their  choicest  impulses. 

What  rapture  inspires  and  informs  the  lines  to 
his  yacht,  and  to  Sirmio,  as  well  as  the  Jam  vei' 
egelidos  refert  tepores! 

As  the  author  of  the  Attis  Catullus  stands 
alone  among  poets.  There  was,  so  far  as  we 
know,  nothing  like  it  before,  and  there  has  been 

339 


CATULLUS   AND   LESBIA 

nothing  like  it  since.  If  it  be  a  study  from  the 
Greek,  as  it  is  generally  supposed  to  be,  it  is  very 
difficult  to  conjecture  at  what  period  its  original 
could  have  been  produced.  There  is  nothing  at 
all  resembling  it  which  has  come  down  from  the 
lyric  period  ;  its  theme  is  not  one  which  would 
have  been  likely  to  attract  the  Attic  poets.  If 
its  model  was  the  work  of  some  Alexandrian,  we 
can  only  say  that  such  a  poem  must  have  been 
an  even  greater  anomaly  in  that  literature  than 
Smart's  Song  to  David  is  to  our  own  literature,  in 
the  eighteenth  century.  It  may,  of  course,  be 
urged  that  it  is  equally  anomalous  in  Latin 
poetry,  and  that,  if  resolved  into  its  elements,  it 
has  much  more  affinity  with  what  may  be  traced 
to  Greek  than  to  Roman  sources.  In  its  com- 
pound epithets,  and  more  particularly  in  the 
singular  use  of  "  foro,"  so  plainly  substituted  for 
the  Greek  dyopd  and  its  associations,  it  certainly 
reads  like  a  translation  from  the  Greek ;  and 
yet,  in  the  total  impression  made  by  it,  the 
poem  has  not  the  air  of  a  translation,  but  of  an 
original,  and  of  an  original  struck  out,  in  in- 
spiration, at  white  heat. 

Only  by  an  extraordinary  effort  of  imaginative 
sympathy  are  we  now  able  to  realize  to  ourselves 
the  tragedy  of  the  Attis,  while  its  rushing  galli- 
ambics  whirl  us  through  the  panorama  of  its  swift- 
succeeding  pictures.  But  home  to  every  heart 
must  come  the  poems  which  Catullus  dedicates 
to  the  memory  of  his  brother,  and  the  poem  in 

340 


CATULLUS   AND   LESBIA 

which  he  tries  to  soothe  Calvus  for  the  death  of 
Quintilia. 

Multas  per  gentes,  et  multa  per  aequora  vectus 

Advenio  has  miseras,  f rater,  ad  inferias, 
Ut  te  postremo  donarem  munere  mortis, 

Et  mutum  nequidquam  alloquerer  cinerem : 
Quandoquidem  fortuna  mihi  tete  abstulit  ipsum : 

Heu  miser  iudigne  f  rater  adempte  mihi ! 
Nunc  tamen  interea  prisco  quss  more  parentum 

Tradita  sunt  tristi  munere  ad  inferias, 
Accipe,  fraterno  multum  manantia  fletu : 

Atque  in  perpetuum,  frater,  ave  atque  vale. 

"Many  are  the  peoples,  many  the  seas  I  have  passed 
through  to  be  here,  dear  brother,  at  this,  thine  untimely 
grave,  that  I  might  pay  thee  death's  last  tribute,  and 
greet, — how  vainly, — the  dust  that  has  no  response.  For 
well  I  know  Fortune  hath  bereft  me  of  thy  living  self — 
Ah !  hapless  brother,  cruelly  torn  from  me !  Yet  here,  see,  be 
the  offerings  which,  from  of  old,  the  custom  of  our  fathers 
hath  handed  down  as  a  sad  oblation  to  the  grave— take  them 
— they  are  streaming  with  a  brother's  tears.  And  now — for 
evermore — brother,  hail  and  farewell!" 

Could  pathos  go  further?     How  exquisite,  too, 
is  the  following  : — 

Si  quidquam  mutis  gratum  acceptumque  sepulcris 
Accidere  a  nostro,  Calve,  dolore  potest, 

Quum  desiderio  veteres  renovamus  amores,, 
Atque  olim  amissas  flemus  amicitias : 

Certe  non  tanto  mors  immatura  dolori  est 
Quintilise,  quantum  gaudet  amore  tuo. ' 

' "  If  the  silent  dead  can  feol  any  pleasure,  or  solace 
from  our  sorrow,  Calvus,  when,  in  wistful  regret,  we 
recall  past  loves,  and  weep  for  the  friendsliips  severed  long 
ago,  then  be  sure  that  Quintilia's  grief  for  her  early  death  is 
not  so  great  as  the  joy  she  feels  in  knowing  your  love  for 
her." 

341 


CATULLUS  AND  LESBIA 

Shakespeare  merely  unfolded  what  was  included 
here,  when  he  wrote  those  haunting  lines  : — 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 

I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 

I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 

And  with  old  woes  new  wail  my  dear  time's  waste 

Then  can  I  drown  an  eye,  unus'd  to  flow, 

For  precious  friends  hid  in  death's  dateless  night, 

And  weep  afresh  love's  long-since  cancell'd  woe, 

And  moan  the  expense  of  many  a  vanish'd  sight. 

Never,  too,  has  any  poet  given  such  pathetic 
expression  to  a  sorrow,  which  to  the  young  is 
even  harder  to  bear  than  the  loss  inflicted  by 
death,  the  perfidy  and  treachery  of  friends.  The 
verses  to  Alphenus  (xxx.),  to  the  anonymous 
friend  in  lxviii.,and  the  epigram  to  Rufus(lxxvii.), 
are  indescribably  touching.  What  infinite  sad- 
ness there  is  in  : — 

Si  tu  oblitus  es,  at  Dii  meminerunt,  meminit  Fides, 
Qu86  te  ut  pseniteat  postmodo  facti  faciet  tui. 

What  passion  of  grief  in  : — 

Heu,  heu,  nostree  crudele  venenum 
Vitae,  heu,  heu,  nostree  pestis  amicitiee! 

But  nothing  that  Catullus  has  left  us  equals  in 
fascinating  interest,  or  exceeds  in  charm,  the 
poems  inspired  by  the  woman  who  was  at  once 
the  bliss  and  the  curse  of  his  life  — 

Lesbia  nostra,  Lesbia  ilia, 
Ilia  Lesbia,  quam  Catullus  unam 
Plusquam  se,  atque  suos  amavit  omnes. 
342 


CATULLUS  AND   LESBIA 

Whether  she  is  to  be  identified  with  the  sister 
of  P.  Clodius  Pulcher,  and  the  wife  of  Metellus 
Celer,  seems  to  us,  in  spite  of  the  arguments  of 
Schwaber,  Munro,  Ellis,  and  Sellar,  extremely 
doubtful.  It  is  a  point  which  need  not  be  dis- 
cussed here,  and  is,  indeed,  of  little  importance. 
That  she  was  a  woman  of  superb  and  command- 
ing beauty,  a  false  wife,  a  false  mistress,  and  of 
immeasurable  profligacy,  Catullus  has  himself  told 
us.  There  could  only  be  one  end  to  a  passion  of 
which  such  a  siren  was  the  object ;  and,  exquisite 
as  the  poems  are  which  precede  the  breaking  of  the 
spell,  it  is  in  the  poems  recording  the  gradual  pro- 
cess of  disenchantment,  and  the  struggle  between 
the  old  love  and  the  new  loathing,  that  Catullus 
touches  us  most.  How  piercing  is  the  pathos  of 
such  a  poem  as  the  Si  qua  recordanti  (Ixxvi.),  or 
the  epigram  in  which  he  says  that  he  loves  and 
loathes,  but  knows  not  why,  only  knows  that  it  is 
so,  and  that  he  is  on  the  rack : — 

Odi  et  amo.    Quare  id  faciam,  fortasse  requiris. 
Nescio :  sed  fieri  sentio  et  excrucior. 

Or  where  he  says  that,  pest  as  she  is,  he  cannot 
curse  a  love  who  is  dearer  tO  him  than  both  his 
eyes  : — 

Credis  me  potuisse  meae  maledicere  vitse, 
Ambobus  mihi  quse  carior  est  oculis  ? 
Non  potui,  nee,  si  possem,  tam  perdite  amarem. 

And  he  suffered  the  more,  as  he  had  lavished 
on  her  the  purest  affections  of  his  heart.     His 

343 


CATULLUS  AND   LESBIA 

love  for  her — such  was  his  own  expression — was 
not  simply  that  which  men  ordinarily  feel  for 
their  mistresses,  but  such  as  the  father  feels  for 
his  sons  and  his  sons-in-law  : — 

Dilexi  turn  te,  non  tantum  ut  vulgus  amicam, 
Sed  pater  ut  gnatos  diligit  et  generos. 

But  shameless  as  she  is,  and  it  is  an  impossibility 
for  her  to  be  otherwise,  he  cannot  abandon  her. 
Do  what  she  will  he  is  her  slave.  His  mind,  he 
says,  was  so  straitened  by  her  frailty,  so  beg- 
gared by  its  own  devotion,  that,  even  if  she 
became  virtuous,  he  could  not  love  her  with 
absolute  goodwill,  and  if  she  stuck  at  nothing — 
drained  vice  to  its  very  dregs — he  could  not  give 
her  up  : — 

Hue  est  mens  deducta  tua,  mea  Lesbia,  culp^ 

Atque  ita  se  officio  perdidit  ipsa  suo, 
"Dt  jam  nee  bene  velle  queam  tibi,  si  optima  fias, 

Nee  desistere  amare,  omnia  si  facias. 

He  compares  himself  to  a  man  labouring  under 
a  cruel  and  incurable  disease,  a  disease  which 
is  paralysing  his  energy,  and  draining  life  of  its 

joy  ••— 

Me  miserum  adspieite,  et  si  vitara  puriter  egi, 
Eripite  banc  pestem  perniciemque  mihi, 

Quae  mihi  subrepens  imos,  ut  torpor,  in  artus 
Expulit  ex  omni  pectore  leetitias. 

Nearly  sixteen  hundred  years  had  to  pass  before 
the  world  was  to  have  any  parallel  to  these 
poems.     And  the  parallel  is  certainly  a  remark- 

344 


CATULLUS  AND  LESBL^ 

able  one.  In  the  "Dark  Lady"  of  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets,  Lesbia  lives  again ;  in  the  lover  of  the 
dark  lady,  Lesbia's  victim.  Once  more  a  false 
wife  and  a  false  mistress,  not  indeed  beautiful, 
but  with  powers  of  fascination  so  irresistible 
that  deformity  itself  becomes  a  charm,  makes 
havoc  of  a  poet's  peace.  Once  more  a  passion, 
as  degraded  as  it  is  degrading,  sows  feuds 
among  friends,  and  "infects  with  jealousy  the 
sweetness  of  affiance."  Once  more  rises  the 
bitter  cry  of  a  soul,  conscious  of  the  unspeakable 
degradation  of  a  thraldom  which  it  is  agony  to 
endure,  and  from  which  it  would  be  agony  to  be 
emancipated.     Compare  for  instance  : — 

My  love  is  as  a  fever,  longing  still 
For  that  which  longer  nurseth  the  disease, 
Feeding  on  that  which  doth  preserve  the  ill, 
The  uncertain  sickly  appetite  to  please. 

Past  cure  I  am,  now  reason  is  past  care, 
And  frantic  mad  with  evermore  unrest, 
My  thoughts  and  my  discourse  as  madman's  are, 

(Sonnet  cxlvii.) 

with  Catullus,  Ixxvi. 
And:— 

Whence  hast  thou  this  becoming  of  things  ill. 
That  in  the  very  refuse  of  thy  deeds 
There  is  such  strength  and  warrantise  of  skill, 
That  in  my  mind  thy  worst  all  best  exceeds. 
Who  tauglit  thee  how  to  make  me  love  thee  more, 
The  more  I  hear  and  see  just  cause  of  hate? 

(Sonnet  cl.) 

with  Catullus,  Ixxii.,  Ixxiii.,  Ixxv. ;  while  Sonnet 

345 


CATULLUS  AND  LESBIA 

cxxxvii.  presents  a  ghastly  parallel  with  Catullus, 
Iviii.  Again,  how  exactly  analogous  is  the  ad 
juration  to  Quintius  in  Epigram  Ixxxii.,  with 
what  finds  expression  in  Sonnets  xl.-xlii.,  and 
Sonnet  cxx.  But  it  would  be  tedious  as  well  as 
superfluous  to  cite  particular  parallels  where 
the  whole  position — which  may  be  summed  up 
in  the  two  words  of  Catullus,  "Odi  et  amo," 
— is  identical. 

Not  the  least  remarkable  thing  about  Catullus 
is  his  range  and  his  versatility.  It  is  truly  extra- 
ordinary that  the  same  pen  should  have  given  us 
such  finished  social  portraits  as  '•  Suffenus  iste  " 
(xxii.),  "Ad  Furium"  (xxiii.),  "In  Egnatium" 
(xxxix.) ;  the  perfection  of  such  serious  fooling  as 
we  find  in  the  "  Lugete,  O  Veneres"  (iii.),  and,  if 
we  may  apply  such  an  expression  to  the  most 
delicious  love  poem  ever  written,  the  "Acme  and 
Septimius "  (xlv.) ;  of  such  humorous  fooling 
as  we  find  in  the  "  Varus  me  mens  ad  suos 
amores"  (x.),  the  "O  Colonia  quae  cupis"  (xvii.), 
the  "Adeste,  hendecasyllabi,"  the  "Oramus,  si 
forte  non  molestum "  (Iv.) ;  such  epic  as  we 
have  in  the  "  Peleus  and  Thetis  "  ;  such  triumphs 
of  richness,  splendour,  and  grace  as  we  have  in 
the  three  marriage  poems  ;  such  a  superb  ex- 
pression of  the  highest  imaginative  power,  pene- 
trated with  passion  and  enthusiasm,  as  we  have 
in  the  A  ttis ;  such  concentrated  invective  and 
satire  as  mark  some  of  the  lampoons ;  such 
mock  heroic  as  we  have  in  the  Coma  Berenices ; 

346 


CATULLUS  AND  LESBIA 

such  piercing  pathos  as  penetrates  the  autobio- 
graphical poems,  and  the  poems  dedicated  to 
Lesbia. 

Catullus  has  been  compared  to  Keats,  but 
the  comparison  is  not  a  happy  one.  His 
nearest  analogy  among  modern  poets  is  Burns. 
Both  were,  in  Tennyson's  phrase,  "  dowered 
with  the  love  of  love,  the  scorn  of  scorn," 
and,  in  the  poems  of  both,  those  passions  find 
the  intensest  expression.  Both  had  an  ex- 
quisite sympathy  with  all  that  appeals,  either 
in  nature  or  in  humanity,  to  the  senses  and 
the  affections.  Both  were  sensualists  and 
libertines  without  being  effeminate,  or  without 
being  either  depraved  or  hardened.  In  both, 
indeed,  an  infinite  tenderness  is  perhaps  the 
predominating  feature.  Both  had  humour,  that 
of  Catullus  being  the  more  caustic,  that  of 
Bums  the  more  genial.  Both  were  distinguished 
by  sincerity  and  simplicity ;  both  waged  war 
with  charlatanry  and  baseness.  Burns  had  the 
richer  nature  and  was  the  greater  as  a  man ; 
Catullus  was  the  more  accomplished  artist. 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  to  the  book  which  has 
recalled  Catullus  and  Lesbia.  Mr.  Tremenheere 
has,  with  great  ingenuity,  succeeded  in  concoct- 
ing by  a  process  of  elaborate  dovetailing  a  very 
pretty  romance  which  he  divides  into  nine 
chapters,  the  first  being  "  The  Birth  of  Love," 
the  second,  third  and  fourth,  "Possession," 
"Quarrels"  and  "Reconciliation,"  the  fifth,  sixth, 

347 


CATULLUS  AND   LESBIA 

and  seventh,  "  Doubt,"  "  A  Brother's  Death  "  and 
•'  Unfaithfulness,"  the  last  two,  "  Avoidance  "  and 
"The  Death  of  Love."  The  chief  objection  to 
this  is  that  it  is  for  the  most  part  fanciful,  and 
is  absolutely  without  warrant,  either  from  tradi- 
tion or  from  probability.  Many  of  the  poems 
pressed  into  the  service  of  his  narrative  by  Mr. 
Tremenheere  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
Lesbia.  Such  would  be  xiii.,  "  The  invitation  to 
Fabullus,"  xiv.,  "The  Acme  and  Septimiiis." 

The  translations  are  very  unequal.  Of  many 
of  them  it  may  be  said  in  Dogberry's  phrase  that 
they  "  are  tolerable  and  not  to  be  endured,"  or  to 
borrow  an  expression  from  Byron  "  so  middling 
bad  were  better."  Thus  the  powerful  poem  to 
Gellius  (xci.)  is  attenuated  into  : — 

'Twa3  not  that  I  esteem'd  j-ou  were 

As  constant  or  incapable 

Of  vulgar  baseness,  but  that  she 

For  whom  great  love  was  wasting  me, 

The  spice  of  incest  lacked  for  you ; 

And  though  we  were  old  friends,  'tis  true, 

That  seem'd  poor  cause  to  my  poor  mind, 

Not  so  to  yours. 

Sometimes  the  versions  are  detestable.  Nothing 
could  be  worse  than  to  turn  : — 

Nulli  ilium  pueri  nullse  optavere  puellse 

No  more  is  she  glad  to  the  eyes  of  a  lad, 
To  the  lasses  a  pride, — 


or 


Dulcis  pueri  ebrios  ocellos 
348 


CATULLUS  AND  LESBIA 

as 

Her  minion's  passion-soddon  eyes,— 

which  might  do  very  well  for  a  coarse  phrase  like 
"  In  Venerem  putres,"  but  not  for  "  Ebrios."  But 
sometimes  the  renderings  are  very  felicitous.  As 
here : — 

Quid  vis?  qu&lubet  esse  notus  optas 
Eris :  quandoquidem  meos  amores 
Cum  longS,  voluisti  amare  pcen3,. 

Cost  what  it  may,  you'll  win  reno^vn ! 
You  shall,  such  longing  you  exhibit 
Both  for  my  mistress — and  a  gibbet! 

And  the  following  is  happy  : — 

Nullum  amans  vere,  sed  identidem  omnium 

Ilia  rumpens. 
Nee  meum  respectet,  ut  ante,  amorem 
Qui  illius  culpfi,  cecidit ;  velut  prati 
Ultimi  flos,  preetereunte  postquam 

Tactus  aratro  est. 

Ah,  shameless,  loveless  lust,  sweet,  seek  no  more 
To  win  love  back,  by  thine  own  fault  it  fell. 
In  the  far  comer  of  the  field  though  hid, 
Touch'd  by  the  plough  at  last, — the  flower  is  dead. 

The  following  also  is  neat  and  skilful,  but  how 
inferior  to  the  almost  terrible  impressiveness  of 
the  original : — 

O  Di  si  vostrAm  est  misereri,  aut  si  quibus  unquam 
Extremft  jam  ipsft  in  morte  tulistis  opem. 

Me  miserum  adspicite,  et  si  vitam  puriter  egi, 
Eripite  banc  pestem  pemiciemque  mihi. 

Quae  mihi  subrepens  imos,  ut  torjKjr,  in  artus 
Expulit  ex  omni  pectore  Isetitias. 

349 


CATULLUS   AND   LESBIA 

Oil  God!  if  Thine  be  pity,  and  if  Thou 
E'en  in  the  jaws  of  death  ere  now, 
Hast  wrought  salvation — look  on  me; 
And  if  my  life  seem  fair  to  Thee 
O  tear  this  plague,  this  curse  away, 
Which  gaining  on  me  day  by  day, 
A  creeping  slow  paralysis, 
Hath  driven  away  all  happiness. 

Six  love  stories  stand  out  conspicuous  in  the 
records  of  poetry — those  which  find  expression 
in  the  Elegies  of  Propertius,  in  the  Sonnets  and 
Canzoni  of  Dante  and  Petrarch,  in  the  Sonnets 
of  Camoens,  in  the  Astrophel  and  Stella  of  Sid- 
ney, in  the  Sonnets  of  Shakespeare.  But  never 
has  passion,  never  has  pathos,  thrilled  in  intenser 
or  more  piercing  utterance  than  in  the  poems 
which  that  fatal  "  Clytemnestra  quadrantaria  " 
— to  employ  the  phrase  which  may  actually  have 
been  applied  to  her — inspired,  and  in  which  the 
rapture  and  loathing  and  despair  of  Catullus 
found  a  voice. 


350 


THE   RELIGION  OF   SHAKESPEARE^ 

THIS  book,  which  i8  partly  a  compilation 
from  the  uncollected  writings  of  the  late 
Richard  Simpson  and  partly  the  composition  of 
Father  Bowden  himself,  is  an  attempt  to  show 
that  Shakespeare  was  a  Roman  Catholic.  It 
contains  much  interesting  information  ;  it  is 
well  written,  and  we  have  read  it  with  pleasure. 
With  much  which  we  find  in  it  we  entirely 
concur  and  are  in  full  sympathy.  We  take 
Shakespeare  quite  as  seriously  as  Father  Bow- 
den does.  We  believe  that  the  greatest  of 
dramatic  poets  is  also  one  of  the  greatest  of 
moral  teachers,  that  his  theology  and  ethics 
deserve  the  most  careful  study,  and  that  they 
have,  too  frequently,  been  either  neglected  or 
misinterpreted.  We  agree  with  Father  Bowden 
that  nothing  could  be  sounder  and  more  persis- 
tently emphasised  than  the  ethical  element  in 
this  poet's  dramas  ;  that  his  ethics  are,  in  the 

'  The  Religion  of  Shakespeare.  Chiefly  from  the  writings 
of  the  late  Mr.  Eichard  Simpson.  By  Henry  Sebastian 
Bowden.    London. 

351 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

main,  the  ethics  of  Christianity,  and  that  so  far 
from  Shakespeare  being  simply  an  agnostic  and 
having  no  religion  at  all,  as  Birch  and  others 
have  contended,  he  is,  if  not  formally,  at  least  in 
essence,  as  religious  as  -^schylus  and  Sophocles. 

And  now  Father  Bowden  must  forgive  us  if 
we  are  unable  to  go  further  with  him.  We 
have  no  prejudice  against  Roman  Catholicism, 
or  against  any  of  the  creeds  in  which  religious 
faith  and  reverence  have  found  expression, — 
"  Tros  Rutulusve  fuat  nuUo  discrimine  agetur." 
Our  sole  wish  is,  if  possible,  to  get  at  the  truth. 
It  is  of  comparatively  little  consequence  now 
to  what  form  of  religion  Shakespeare  belonged, 
but  it  would  be  at  least  interesting,  if  it  could 
be  shown  that  any  particular  sect  could  legiti- 
mately claim  him. 

In  discussing  this  question  we  must  bear 
in  mind  that  in  Shakespeare's  time,  as  in 
the  time  of  the  ancients,  religion  had  two 
aspects,  its  private  and  its  public.  In  its  public 
aspect  it  was  a  part  of  the  machinery  of  the 
state,  an  essential  portion  of  the  political  fabric. 
Till  the  Reformation  there  had  been  practically 
no  schism  and  no  difficulty.  After  the  Reforma- 
tion a  most  perplexing  problem  presented  it- 
self. Roman  Catholicism  and  Protestantism,  in 
a  long  and  terrible  conflict,  struggled  for  the 
mastery.  At  the  accession  of  Elizabeth  the 
victory  had  been  won,  so  far  as  England  was 
concerned,  by  Protestantism,  and  Protestantism 

352 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

was  the  accepted  religion  of  the  nation.  As 
such,  it  was  the  duty  of  every  loyal  citizen  to 
uphold  it ;  it  became  with  the  throne  one  of  the 
two  pillars  on  which  the  fabric  of  the  state 
rested.  Roman  Catholicism  became  identified 
with  the  political  rivals  and  enemies  of  England. 
Protestantism  became  identified  with  her  lovers 
and  upholders.  Thus  the  Church  and  the 
Throne  became  indissoluble,  at  once  the  sym- 
bols, centres,  and  securities  of  political  harmony 
and  union.  This  accounts  for  the  attitude  of 
Hooker,  Spenser,  Shakespeare  and  Bacon 
towards  Episcopalian  Protestantism  on  the  one 
hand,  and  towards  Puritanism  on  the  other. 
About  Shakespeare's  political  opinions  there 
can  be  no  doubt  at  all,  for,  if  we  except  the 
Comedies,  he  preaches  them  emphatically  in 
almost  every  drama  which  he  has  left  us. 
They  were  those  of  an  uncompromising  and 
intolerant  Royalist,  in  whose  eyes  the  only 
security  for  all  that  is  dear  to  the  patriot  lay 
in  implicit  obedience  to  the  will  of  the  sovereign, 
and  in  upholding  a  system  to  which  that  will 
was  law.  That  he  should,  therefore,  have  had 
any  sympathy  with  the  Roman  Catholics  is,  on 
a  priori  grounds,  exceedingly  improbable.  We 
turn  to  his  Dramas,  and  what  do  we  find  ?  It 
would  be  no  exaggeration  to  say,  that  there  is 
not  a  line  in  them  which  indicates  that  he 
regarded  the  Roman  Catholics  with  favour. 
On  the  contrary,  they  abound  in  points  directed 
E.G.  853  z 


THE   RELIGION  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

against  them.  Thu8  he  twice  goes  out  of  his 
way,  once  in  Henry  F.  ^  and  once  in  AlVs  Well 
that  Ends  Well,  to  observe  that  "  miracles  have 
ceased."  There  is  a  bitter  sneer  at  them  in 
the  reference  to  the  sanctimonious  pirate  and 
the  commandments,  in  Measure  for  Measure. ' 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  words  in 
the  porter's  speech  in  Macbeth,  "  here's  an  equi- 
vocator  that  could  swear  in  both  the  scales 
against  either  scale,  who  committed  treason 
enough  for  God's  sake,  yet  could  not  equivocate 
to  Heaven,"  have  sarcastic  reference  to  the 
doctrine  of  equivocation  avowed  by  Garnett  and 
popularly  associated  with  the  Jesuits ;  while 
the  remark  about  the  fitness  of  "the  nun's  lip 
to  the  friar's  mouth  "  ^  in  AlVs  Well  that  Ends 
Well  is  another  concession  to  Protestant  pre- 
judice. 

In  King  John  such  a  speech  as  the  following 
may  be  dramatic,  but  who  can  doubt  that  it 
expressed  the  poet's  own  sentiments  ? — 

Tell  him  this  tale ;  and  from  the  mouth  of  England 

Add  thus  much  more, — that  no  Italian  priest 

Shall  tithe  or  toll  in  our  dominions ; 

But,  as  we  under  Heaven  are  supreme  head, 

So,  under  Him,  that  great  supremacy, 

'  Act  I.  So.  i.  This  is  a  very  pointed  reference,  but  in  the 
second  instance,  in  AlVs  Well  that  Ends  Well,  Act  II.  Sc.  i., 
"  They  say  miracles  are  past,"  he  gives  a  turn  to  the  ex- 
pression which  converts  it  into  a  rebuke  of  Rationalism. 

»  Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  »  Act  n.  Sc.  ii. 

354 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

Where  we  do  reign,  we  will  alone  uphold, 
Without  the  assistance  of  a  mortal  hand : 
So  tell  the  Pope;  all  reverence  set  apart 
To  him,  and  his  usurp'd  authority. 

King  John  is,  indeed,  simply  the  manifesto  of 
Protestantism  against  papal  aggression.  What 
could  be  more  contemptible  than  the  character 
of  Pandulph  and  the  part  which  he  plays  ?  Is  it 
credible  that  Shakespeare  could  have  had  any 
sympathy  with  a  religion  whose  minister  is  one 
whom  he  represents  as  saying  : 

Meritorious  shall  that  hand  be  called. 
Canonized,  and  worshipi^ed  as  a  saint, 
That  takes  away  by  any  secret  course 
Thy  hateful  life. 

In  Henry  VIII.,  again,  we  have  an  elaborate 
eulogy  of  the  Reformation,  Cranmer  being  pre- 
sented in  the  most  favourable  light,  Gardiner 
in  the  most  unfavourable,  while  Wolsey  is 
almost  as  detestable  as  Pandulph. 

It  is  really  pitiable  to  see  the  shifts  to  which 
the  authors  of  this  book  are  reduced  to  make 
out  their  theory.  They  have  even  pressed  into 
its  service  Jordan's  palpable  and  long-exploded 
forgery  of  John  Shakespeare's  Will,  and  the 
fact  that  John  Shakespeare's  name  is  found  on 
a  list  of  Recusants,  when  it  is,  in  that  very  list, 
expressly  stated  that  he  had  absented  himself 
from  church,  simply  from  fear  of  process  for 
debt.  Passages  in  the  dramas  are  similarly 
perverted.     Shakespeare's  hostility  to  the  Pro- 

355 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

testants  induced  him,  we  are  told,  to  pour 
contempt  on  Oldcastle  by  depicting  him  as  Fal- 
staiSP.  His  delineation  of  Malvolio,  and  his 
frequent  sneers  at  the  Puritans,  are  attributed 
to  the  same  motive.  The  famous  lines  in 
Hamlet,  placed  in  the  mouth  of  the  Ghost,  are 
cited  to  prove  his  belief  in  purgatory  ;  the 
comical  penances  imposed  on  Biron  and  his 
friends  in  Love's  Labour  Lost  to  prove  his 
belief  in  penance.  When  in  Lear  it  is  said  of 
Cordelia  that : — 

She  shook 
The  holy  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes. 

we  are  to  see  another  indication  of  Shakespeare's 
religion  as  "  they  have  a  Catholic  ring  about 
them."  Sentiments  which  are  common  to  all 
sects  of  Christians  are  regarded  as  peculiar  to 
Roman  Catholicism  ;  mere  dramatic  utterances 
are  forced  into  illustrations  of  supposed  personal 
convictions.  What  is  habitually  and  systemati- 
cally ignored  is,  that  Shakespeare,  being  a 
dramatic  poet,  must  necessarily  make  his 
characters  express  themselves  dramatically,  and 
that,  as  he  was  depicting  times  preceding  the 
Reformation,  his  sentiments  and  expressions 
very  naturally  took  the  colour  of  the  world  in 
which  his  characters  moved.  The  wonder  is  not 
that  this  should  have  occurred,  but  that  Shake- 
speare should,  in  spite  of  the  gross  anachronism 
of  such  a  process,  have  so  Protestantized  pre- 
Reformation  times.     We   are   quite   willing   to 

356 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

concede  to  Father  Bowden  that  there  is  enough 
to  warrant  us  in  assuming  that  Shakespeare  did 
not  regard  the  Puritans  with  favour.  But  his 
dislike  to  them  arose  not  from  the  fact  that 
they  were  Protestants,  but  that  they  were  not 
orthodox  Protestants.  He  was  opposed  to 
them  for  the  same  reasons  that  Elizabeth  and 
James,  Hooker  and  Bacon  were  opposed  to 
them.  Their  hostility  to  his  profession,  their 
sanctimonious  cant,  and  the  surly  asceticism  of 
their  lives,  no  doubt  contributed  to  his  preju- 
dice against  them. 

Nor  are  we  in  any  way  justified  in  concluding 
that  Shakespeare  accepted  the  teaching  of  the 
Church  of  Rome  in  spiritual  matters.  Nothing 
could  be  more  unwarranted  than  what  is 
assumed  by  Father  Bowden  in  the  following 
passage.  He  is  speaking  of  Shakespeare's  atti- 
tude in  relation  to  death.  *' '  Ripeness  is  all ' ; 
and  he  shows  us  in  all  his  penitents  how  that 
ripeness  is  secured,  sin  forgiven,  and  heaven 
won  on  the  lines  of  Catholic  dogma  and  by  the 
Sacraments  of  the  Church." 

What  are  the  facts  ?  Shakespeare's  reticence 
about  a  future  state,  and  what  may  await  man, 
in  the  form  of  reward  and  punishment  hereafter, 
is  one  of  his  most  striking  characteristics. 
Neither  Cordelia  nor  Desdemona,  neither  Con- 
stance nor  Imogen  in  their  darkest  hours 
expresses  any  confidence  in  the  final  mercy  and 
justice  of  Heaven.     Othello,  falling  by  a  fate  as 

367 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

terrible  as  it  was  undeserved,  dies  without  a 
syllable  of  hope.  "  The  rest  is  silence  "  are  the 
ominous  words  with  which  Hamlet  takes  leave 
of  life.  When  Gloucester  believes  himself  to  be 
standing  on  the  brink  of  death,  in  the  farewell 
which  he  takes  of  the  world  he  has  no  anticipa- 
tion of  any  other ;  all  he  contemplates  is  "to 
shake  patiently  his  great  affliction  off."  So  die 
Lear,  Hotspur,  Romeo,  Antony,  Eros,  Enobar- 
bus,  Macbeth,  Beaufort,  Mercutio,  Laertes.  So 
die  Brutus,  Coriolanus,  King  John.  In  the 
Duke's  speech  in  Measure  for  Measure,  where 
he  is  preparing  Claudio  to  meet  death,  death  is 
merely  contemplated  as  an  escape  from  the 
pains  and  discomforts  of  life.  Macbeth  would 
'  jump '  the  world  to  come  if  he  could  escape 
punishment  in  this.  Prospero  suggests  no  hope 
of  any  waking  from  the  "  rounding  sleep." 
Even  Isabella,  dedicated  as  she  was  to  religion, 
in  fortifying  Claudio  against  his  fate  draws  no 
weapon  from  the  armoury  of  faith.  It  is  just 
the  same  in  the  dirge  in  Cymbeline,  in  the 
soliloquy  of  Posthumus,  in  the  consolations 
addressed  by  the  gaoler  to  Posthumus.^ 

*  In  opposition  to  these  may,  it  is  true,  be  cited  Othello's 
words  to  Desdemona — Othello,  V.  2 :  the  Duke's  remark  about 
putting  the  unrepentant  Barnard  ine  to  death — Measure  for 
Measure,  IV.  8:  the  dying  speeches  of  Buckingham  and 
Catharine  in  Henry  VIII.,  II.  1 ;  IV.  2 :  Laertes  on  Ophelia, 
— Hamlet,  V.  1.  But  these  passages,  and  others  like  them, 
cannot  be  cited  as  evidence  to  the  contrary;  they  are  merely 
dramatic  utterances. 

358 


THE   RELIGION   OF   SHAKESPEARE 

The  last  passage  is  perhaps  more  remarkable 
than  any,  because  it  shows  the  utter  ambiguity 
of  the  directest  expression  which  the  poet  has 
left  on  the  subject. 

Gaol. — Look  you,  sir,  you  know  not  wliich  way  you  go. 

Post. — Yes,  indeed  do  I,  fellow. 

Gaol. — Your  death  has  eyes  in  'a  head  then ;  I  have  not 
seen  him  so  pictured  ;  you  must  either  be  directed 
by  some  that  take  upon  them  to  know,  or  take 
upon  yourself,  that  which  I  am  sure  you  do  not 
know ;  or  jump  the  after  inquiry  on  your  own 
peril ;  and  how  you  shall  speed  in  your  journey's 
end,  I  think  you'll  never  return  to  tell  one. 

Post — I  tell  thee,  fellow,  there  are  none  want  eyes  to 
direct  them  the  way  I  am  going,  but  such  as 
wink,  and  will  not  u^e  them. 

Cymbeline,  V.  4. 

Shakespeare,  in  truth,  never  attempts  to  lift 
the  veil  which  for  living  man  can  be  raised 
only  by  Revelation.  The  silence  of  his  philo- 
sophy,— for  we  must  not  confound  occasional 
sentiments  and  mere  dramatic  utterances  with 
what  justifies  us  in  deducing  that  philosophy, — 
in  relation  to  a  life  after  this,  is  unbroken. 
It  is,  indeed,  remarkable  that  he  represents  such 
speculations, — the  dwelling  on  such  problems, — 
as  more  likely  to  disturb,  perplex,  and  hamper 
us,  than  to  give  us  any  comfort.  As  Hamlet 
puts  it  in  the  well-known  lines  : — 

The  native  hue  of  resolution 
Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought, 
And  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment, 
With  this  regard,  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. 
359 


THE  RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

Did  he  believe  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul 
and  in  a  future  state  ?  Who  can  say  ?  What 
we  can  say  is,  that  if  we  require  affirmative 
evidence  of  such  a  faith,  we  shall  seek  for  it  in 
vain.  In  the  Sonnets,  where  he  seems  to  speak 
from  himself,  the  only  immortality  to  which  he 
refers  is  the  permanence  of  the  impression  which 
his  genius  as  a  poet  will  leave — immortality  in 
the  sense  in  which  Cicero  and  Tacitus  have  so 
eloquently  interpreted  the  term.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  if  there  is  nothing  to  warrant  a 
conclusion  in  the  affirmative,  there  is  nothing 
to  warrant  one  in  the  negative.  His  attitude  is 
precisely  that  of  Aristotle  in  the  Ethics;  a  life 
beyond  this  is  neither  affirmed  nor  denied,  but 
the  scale  of  probability  inclines  towards  the 
negative,  and  his  moral  philosophy  proceeds 
on  the  assumption  that  life  is  the  end  of  life.^ 

Goethe  has  said  that  man  was  not  born  to 
solve  the  problems  of  the  universe,  but  to  at- 
tempt to  solve  them,  that  he  might  keep  within 
the  limits  of  the  knowable.  And  it  is  within 
the  limits  of  the  knowable  that  Shakespeare's 
theology  confines  itself.  Starting  simply,  as 
Gervinus  says,  from  the  point,  that  man  is  born 
with  powers  and  faculties  which  he  is  to  use, 
and  with  powers  of  self-regulation  and  self- 
determination  which  are  to  direct  aright  the 
powers  of  action,   the  "  Whence  we  are,"  and 

» Cf.  Ethics,  I.  X.  11,  and  III.  vi.  6. 
360 


THE  RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

the  "  Whither  we  are  going,"  are  problems  for 

which  he  has  no  solution.^ 

Men  must  endure 
Their  going  hence  e'en  as  their  coming  hither  : 
Ripeness  is  all. 

And  for  ripeness  or  unripeness,  man's  will  is  re- 
sponsible. He  would  probably  have  agreed  with 
the  saying  of  Heraclitus,  ^^09  dvBpcoirq)  Salfiav. 
Throughout  his  Dramas  all  is  explicable,  with 
the  single  exception  of  Macbeth,  without  refer- 
ence to  supernaturalism.  Perfectly  intelligible 
effects  follow  perfectly  intelligible  causes ;  the 
moral  law  solves  all.  But  especially  conspicu- 
ous is  the  absence  of  the  theological  element 
where  we  should  especially  have  looked  for  it. 
"  Men  and  women,"  says  Brewer,  "  are  made  to 
drain  the  cup  of  misery  to  the  dregs ;  but,  as  from 
the  depths  into  which  they  have  fallen,  by  their 
own  weakness,  or  by  the  weakness  of  others,  the 
poet  never  raises  them,  in  violation  of  the  inexor- 
able laws  of  nature,  so  neither  does  he  put  a  new 
song  in  their  mouths,  or  any  expression  of  confi- 
dence in  God's  righteous  dealing.  With  as  hard 
and  precise  a  hand  as  Bacon  does  he  sunder  the 
celestial  from  the  terrestrial  kingdom,  the  things 
of  earth  from  the  things  of  heaven."  * 

His  theology,  indeed,  in  its  application  to  life, 
seems  to  resolve   itself  into  the  recognition  of 

'  Shakespeare  Commentaries,  Vol.  II.  620-1. 
*  Article  on  Shakespeare,  Quarterly  Review  for  July,  1871, 
p.  46. 

361 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

universal  law,  divinely  appointed,  immutable, 
inexorable,  ubiquitous,  controlling  the  physical 
world,  controlling  the  moral  world,  vindicating 
itself  in  the  smallest  facts  of  life,  and  in  the 
most  stupendous  convulsions  of  nature  and 
society.  In  morals  it  is  maintained  by  the  ob- 
servance of  the  mean  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
due  fulfilment  of  duty  and  obligation  on  the 
other.  In  politics  it  is  maintained  by  the  sub- 
ordination of  the  individual  to  the  state,  and  of 
the  state  to  the  higher  law.  Hooker  says  of 
Law,  that  as  her  voice  is  the  harmony  of  the 
world,  so  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God.  The 
Law  Shakespeare  recognises  ;  of  the  Law-giver 
he  is  silent.  As  he  is  dumb  before  the  mystery 
of  death,  so  is  he  equally  reticent  in  the  face  of 
that  other  mystery.  He  has  nothing  of  the 
anthropomorphism  of  the  Old  Testament,  of 
the  Homeric  poems,  and  of  Milton.  Nor  has  he 
ever  expressed  himself  as  Goethe  has  done  in 
the  famous  passage  in  Faust,  beginning  :  "  Wer 
darf  ihn  nennen."  In  two  important  respects  he 
seems  to  differ  from  the  Christian  conception. 
He  represents  no  miraculous  interpositions  of 
Providence,  no  suspension  of  natural  laws  in 
favour  of  the  righteous,  and  to  the  detriment  of 
the  wicked.  He  is  too  reverend  to  say  with 
Goethe,  that  man,  so  far  as  direction  in  action 
goes,  is  practically  his  own  divinity.  But  he 
does  say  and  represent — and  that  repeatedly — 
what  is  expressed  in  such  passages  as  these : — 

362 


THE    RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

Our  remedies  oft  in  ourselves  do  lie 
Which  we  ascribe  to  Heaven  :  the  fated  sky 
Gives  lis  full  scope. 

AWs  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

Men  at  some  time  are  masters  of  their  fate. 

Julius  Casar. 

Omission  to  do  what  is  necessary 

Seals  a  commission  to  a  blank  of  danger. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

And  we  have  no  right  to  expect  that  Provi- 
dence will  cancel  it.  If  deeds  do  not  go  with 
prayer,  prayer  is  not  likely  to  be  of  much  avail. 
So  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle  in  Richard  II. : — 

The  means  that  Heaven  yields  must  be  embrac'd 
And  not  neglected;  else  if  Heaven  would 
And  we  will  not,  Heav'n's  offer  we  refuse  :— 

while  the  words  which  he  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  Leonine  in  PeHcles  are,  we  feel,  significant: — 

Pray  :  but  be  not  tedious, 
For  the  Gods  are  quick  of  ear,  and  I  am  sworn 
To  do  my  work  with  haste. 

He  has  no  sympathy  with  pious  recluses.  He 
has  depicted  no  saint  or  religious  enthusiast,  or 
written  a  line  to  indicate  that  he  had  any 
respect  for  their  ideals.     With  him, — 

Spirits  are  not  finely  touched 
But  to  fine  issues. 

They  say  best  men  are  moulded  out  of  faults, 
And,  for  the  most,  become  much  more  the  better 
For  being  a  little  bad. 

Most  subject  is  the  fattest  soil  to  weeds 
363 


THE   RELIGION   OF   SHAKESPEARE 

are  typical  axioms  in  his  philosophy  of  life.  And 
the  nearest  approaches  he  has  given  us  to  the 
saintly  type  of  character  are  the  sentimental 
pietists,  Henry  VI.  and  Richard  II.,  both  of  whom 
are  failures,  and  border  closely  on  moral  im- 
becility. On  the  spiritual  and  moral  efficacy  of 
faith,  he  has  nowhere  laid  stress.  In  his  innumer- 
able reflections  on  life  and  man,  in  his  maxims 
and  precepts,  there  is,  as  a  rule,  scarcely  any 
flavour  of  Christian  theology.  They  are  just 
such  as  might  be  expected  from  a  pure  rationalist. 
Such  is  the  philosophy  of  Hamlet,  of  Jacques,  of 
the  Duke  in  Measure  for  Measure,  and  of  Prospero. 
Even  Friar  Laurence,  though  an  ecclesiastic, 
reasons  and  advises  just  as  a  Stoic  philosopher 
might  have  done.  The  friars  in  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,  and  in  Measure  for  Measure,  the  Bishop 
of  Carlisle  in  Richard  II.,  and  the  Archbishops 
of  Canterbury  and  York  in  Henry  IV.  and  Henry 
v.,  and  Cardinal  Beaufort  in  Henry  VL,  act  and 
speak  like  mere  men  of  the  world.  A  bulky 
volume  would  scarcely  sum  up  the  ethical  and 
political  reflections  scattered  up  and  down  his 
plays  ;  a  few  pages  would  comprise  all  that  could 
be  put  down  as  exclusively  theological.  This 
complete  subordination  of  the  theological  ele- 
ment to  the  ethical  is  the  more  conspicuous 
when  we  compare  his  dramas  with  the  Homeric 
Epics,  and  with  the  tragedies  of  ^schylus  and 
Sophocles. 

And  yet  if  a  thoughtful  person,  after  going 
364 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

attentively  through  the  thirty-six  plays,  were 
asked  what  the  prevailing  impression  made  on 
him  was,  he  would  probably  reply  the  profound 
reverence  which  Shakespeare  shows  universally 
for  religion — his  deep  sense  of  the  mysterious 
relation  which  exists  between  God  and  man. 
We  feel  that  his  silence  on  transcendental  sub- 
jects springs  not  from  indifference,  but  from 
awe.  The  remarkable  words  which  he  places 
in  the  mouth  of  Lafeu,  in  AlVs  Well  that  Ends 
Well  (Act  II.  3),  merely  sum  up  what  we  hear 
sotto  voce  in  various  forms  of  expression  through- 
out his  dramas ;  "  we  have  our  philosophical 
persons,  to  make  modern  and  familiar,  things 
supernatural  and  causeless.  Hence  it  is  that 
we  make  trifles  of  terrors,  ensconcing  ourselves 
into  seeming  knowledge,  when  we  should  submit 
ourselves  to  an  unknown  fear."  And  the  same 
reverence  and  humility  find  a  voice  in  the  verses 
in  which,  in  all  probability,  he  took  leave  of  the 
world  of  active  life. 

Now  my  charms  are  all  o'erthrown, 
And  what  strength  I  have's  mine  own, 
Which  is  most  faint. 

Now  I  want 

Spirits  to  enforce,  art  to  enchant, 
And  my  ending  is  despair 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer, 
Which  pierces  so  that  it  assaults 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  all  faults. 

No  poet  has  dwelt  more  on  the  duty  and  moral 
efficacy  of  prayer,  on  the  omnipresence  of  God, 

365 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

and  on  the  fact  that  in  conscience  we   have  a 
Divine  monitor. 

Of  the  respect  which  Shakespeare  entertained 
for  Christianity  as  a  creed,  of  his  conviction  of 
its  competency  to  fulfil  and  satisfy  all  the  ends 
of  religion  in  men  of  the  highest  type  of  intelli- 
gence and  ability,  we  require  no  further  proof 
than  his  Henry  V.  Henry  V.  is  undoubtedly  his 
ideal  man,  as  Theseus  in  the  CEdipus  Coloneus 
is  the  ideal  man  of  Sophocles.  And  Henry  V. 
is  pre-eminently  a  Christian.  Wherever  Shake- 
speare refers  to  the  person  and  to  the  teachings 
of  Christ,  it  is  always  with  peculiar  tenderness 
and  solemnity.  His  ethics  are  in  one  respect 
essentially  Christian,  and  that  is  in  their  em- 
phatic insistence  on  the  virtues  of  mercy  and 
forgiveness  of  injuries.  In  Measure  for  Measure, 
he  stretched  the  first  as  far  as  the  Master  Him- 
self stretched  it,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  the 
penitent  thief.  And  in  the  Tempest,  that  play 
which  seems  to  embody  in  allegory  Shake- 
speare's mature  and  final  philosophy  of  life, 
who  does  not  recognise  the  symbol  of  Him 
who  rules,  not  merely  in  justice  and  righteous- 
ness, but  in  benevolence  and  mercy,  when 
Prospero,  with  sinners  and  traitors  and  foes 
in  his  power,  proclaims — 

The  rarer  action  is 
In  virtue  than  in  vengeance :  they  being  penitent, 
The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Not  a  frown  further. 

366 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

He  struck  this  note  in  one  of  the  earliest  of 
his  plays : — 

"Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied, 

Is  nor  of  heaven,  nor  earth :  for  these  are  pleas'd. 

By  penitence  th'  Eternal's  wrath's  appeas'd.' 

and  the  note  vibrates  through  his  works.  It  is 
the  crowning  moral  of  Measure  for  Measure  ;  it 
is  one  of  the  dominant  notes  in  Cymbeline.  He 
also  reflects  Christianity  in  the  beautiful  optim- 
ism which  discerns  in  evil  the  agent  of  good,  and 
in  calamity  and  sorrow  the  benevolence  and 
mercy  of  God.  This  is  the  philosophy  which 
penetrates  what  were  probably  his  last  three 
dramas,  The  Winter  s  Tale,  Cymheline,  and  The 
Tempest. 

In  these  respects,  then,  it  may  fairly  be  main- 
tained that  Shakespeare  is  Christian.  For  the 
rest  his  dramas  might,  so  far  as  their  philo- 
sophy is  concerned,  have  come  down  to  us  from 
classical  antiquity.  Nothing  can  be  more  Greek 
than  the  main  basis  on  which  his  ethics  rest — 
the  observance  of  the  mean,  and  the  recogni- 
tion of  the  relation  of  virtue  to  the  becoming. 
When  Claudio  says  : — 

As  snrfeit  is  the  father  of  much  fast, 
So  every  scope  by  the  immoderate  use 
Turns  to  restraint ; 


*  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona :  V.  4. 
367 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

when  Norfolk  says  : — 

The  fire  that  mounts  the  liquor  till  't  o'erflow 
In  seeming  to  augment  it  wastes  it ; 

when  Friar  Laurence  tells  us  that : — 

Virtue  itself  turns  vice,  being  misapplied, 
And  vice  sometime  'a  by  action  dignified  ; 

and  Portia  that 

There  is  no  good  without  respect, 

we  have  not  only  the  keys  to  his  ethics  but 
the  texts  for  sermons  which  find  living  illus- 
trations in  the  fall  of  Angelo,  of  Coriolanus,  of 
Timon,  and  of  many  others  of  his  protagonists. 
Thus  do  his  ethics  temper  and  readjust  for  the 
sphere  of  working  life,  those  of  the  Divine 
Enthusiast  who  legislated,  in  some  respects,  too 
exclusively  perhaps,  for  a  kingdom  which  is 
not  of  this  world. 

And  so,  his  '  religion '  being,  to  borrow  an 
expression  of  his  own,  *'  as  broad  and  general 
as  the  casing  air,"  it  has  come  to  pass,  that 
Shakespeare  has  been  claimed  as  an  orthodox 
Protestant  by  Knight,  Bishop  Wordsworth,  and 
Trench ;  as  an  orthodox  Roman  Catholic  by 
M.  Rio,  Mr.  Simpson,  and  Father  Bowden ;  and 
as  a  simple  agnostic  by  Gervinus,  Kreysig,  and 
Professor  Caird. 

"  He  hath,"  says  Sir  Thomas  Browne  speaking 
of  himself,  "  one  common  and  authentic  philo- 
sophy which  he  learnt  in  the  schools,  whereby  he 

368 


THE   RELIGION   OF  SHAKESPEARE 

reasons  and  satisfies  the  reason  of  other  men : 
another  more  reserved  and  drawn  from  experi- 
ence whereby  he  satisfies  his  own."  It  may  be, 
it  may  quite  well  be,  for  he  has  left  nothing  to 
justify  conclusion  to  the  contrary,  that  the 
words  of  Shakespeare's  Will  —  mere  formula 
though  they  be — are  the  expression  of  what  he 
"reserved"  to  satisfy  himself,  and  that  he 
accepted  the  Christian  Revelation.  It  may  be, 
that  what  we  are  certainly  warranted  in  con- 
cluding about  him,  represents  all  that  can  be 
concluded,  namely,  that : — 

He  at  least  believed  in  soul,  was  very  sure  of  God. 


E.C.  369  A  A 


INDEX 


Accius  quoted,  244 
Addison,  IB  :  272  :  281 
^SCHYLUS,  59 ;   quoted,  62  ; 

his  descriptions  of  Nature, 

241;    his    theology,    267: 

261 :  364 
Alc^us,  287 
Alcman  quoted,  240 
Alamanni,  123 
Anacreon,  286 
Anthology,    Greek,     116  : 

117  :  243 
Antimachus    of    Colophon, 

his  Poems,  289 
Antipater  of  Sidon,  116 
Apollonius    Rhodius,    78; 

beauty  of  his  descriptions, 

242-3 
Archilochus  quoted,  287 
Ariosto     quoted,    79  ;    his 

Orlando,  113 
Aristophanes,     242  :    260  : 

280 ;  his  censure  of   Euri- 
pides, 265 
Aristotle,  63 :  67 ;  influence 

on  Spenser,    120-1 ;   style, 


122;  his  doctrine  of  the 
Kadapa-it,  264-5  ;  his 
Esthetics,  265-6;  Poetics, 
274-6 ;  his  Rhetoric,  287 

Armstrong,  Dr.  John,  his 
connection  with  Thomson, 
333 

Arnold,  Matthew,  63 ; 
quoted,  21 :  105  :  106  :  194  : 
272-3 

Athen-«u8,  293 

AusoNius,  his  Eosce,  246 

AviTus,  251 


Bacon,  Lord,  his  SylvaSylvOr 
rum,  114  ;  his  Latin  style, 
122;  quoted,  182;  on  poetry, 
279 

Barclay,  his  Argents,  129 

Barnum,  the  late  Mr.,  on 
Advertisement,  158 

Beaconsfield,  Lord,  quoted, 
219 

Beneckb,  Mr.  E.  F.  M.,  his 
Antimachus    of  Colophon 


371 


INDEX 


and  Position  of  Women  in 
Greek  Poetry  reviewed, 
255-93 

Bentley,  Richard,  156 

Bbrnays,  Prof.,  on  the 
Kadapais  of  Aristotle,  265 

BOILEAU,  125 

BoLiNGBROKE,  Lord,  119 : 
321 

BoswELL,  James,  134 

BowDEN,  Rev.  H.  Sebastian, 
his  Religion  of  Shake- 
speare reviewed,  351-69 

Brewer,  Rev.  Prof.,  quoted, 
361 

Brown,  Mr.  J.  T.  T.,  his 
Authorship  of  the  King  is 
Quair  reviewed,  172-82 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  his 
Hydriotaphia,  102 ;  quoted, 
368 

Browning,  Robert,  on  the 
Comparative  Study  of 
Ancient  and  Modern  Clas- 
sical Literature,  64 

Browning,  Mrs.,  297 

Burke,  Edmund,  71 :  100-1 : 
125  :  126 

Burns,  Robert,  145;  Com- 
parison with  Catullus,  347 

Butcher,  Prof.  S.  H.,  his 
Some  Aspects  of  the  Greek 
Genius  reviewed,  255-69 

Butler,  Bishop,  quoted,  214 

Butler,  Mr.  Samuel,  on 
Shakespeare's  Sonnets, 
222-4 


CiEUMON  quoted,  95 

Caine,  Mr.  Hall,  28 

Callimachus,  242 

Camoens,  350 

Campbell,  Prof.  Lewis,  269 

Carew,  Thomas,  305 

Catullus,  his  descriptions 
of  Nature,  245  :  336-9; 
quoted,  285 ;  characteristics 
of  his  genius,  335;  his 
Attis,  339-40;  his  pathos, 
337-8  ;  his  connection  with 
Lesbia,  342-5  ;  parallel 
between  Poems  to  Lesbia 
and  Shakespeare's  Sonnets, 
345-6  ;  his  versatility, 
346  ;  comparison  with 
Burns,  347;  Mr.  Tremen- 
heere's  version  of  the  Love 
Poems,  347-9 

Cawthorn,  John,  60 

Chaucer,  53  :  8  :  122-8 

Churchill,  Charles,  quoted, 
159 

Cicero,  influence  on  English 
prose,  61 ;  as  a  critic  of 
rhetoric,  278-9  ;  on  im- 
mortality, 360 

Clarendon,  123 

Classics,  influence  of  the 
Greek  and  Roman  Classics 
on  English  Literature, 
58-63 ;  exclusion  of  from 
Schools  of  Literature  by 
the  English  Universities, 
45-64  ;  effects  of  this  illus- 
trated, 76-83 


372 


INDEX 


Claudian  quoted,  246 

COLVIN,  Mr.  Sidney,  his 
edition  of  Stevenson's 
Letters  reviewed,  165-71 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  127  :  130  : 
281 

Coleridge,  the  late  Lord, 
on  Greek,  255 

Cory,  "William,  253 

Cousin,  Victor,  his  theory  of 
beauty  and  art,  272 

Criticism,  reasons  of  pre- 
sent degraded  state  of, 
13-26 ;  characteristics  of 
current  criticism  described, 
26-30:  270-1;  effects  on 
literature  generally,  31-4; 
refusal  of  the  Universities 
to  train  critics  and  men  of 
letters,  38-44 ;  lethargy 
and  indifference  of  scholars, 
progpressive  degradation 
of  literature  the  certain 
result,  43-44 

Critics,  characteristics  of 
popular,  27-31  :  93-109  : 
110-32  :  151-7 

Crowe,  William,  249 

Cynbwulf,  96 

Dante,  49;  quoted,  335;  his 
Sonnets  and  Canzoni,  350 

Db  Quincby,  Thomas,  char- 
acteristics of,  203-4 ;  his 
comparative  failure,  305; 
Mr.  Hogg's  recollections 
of,  203-10 


Douglas,  Gavin,  his  trans- 
lation of  Virgil,  96-7 

Drayton,  Michael,  60 

Dryden,  his  Discourse  on 
Epic  Poetry,  65;  quoted, 
153;  on  the  functions  of 
poetry,  280 ;  his  transla- 
tions, 148 

DuBOS,  the  Abbe,  281 

Dunbar,  AVilliam,  176;  Mr. 
Smeaton's  Life  of,  re- 
viewed, 183-92;  character- 
istics of  his  poetry,  190-1 

Dyer,  John,  his  descriptive 
poetry,  248 

Earle,  Prof.,  on  relation  of 
Classics  to  English  Litera- 
ture, 59  (note) 

Earle,  John,  his  Microcos- 
mographie,  129 

Editors,  their  relation  to 
current  literature,  22 ;  in 
no  way  responsible  for  the 
present  condition  of  cur- 
rent literature,  23-24 

Ennius,  59 

Euripides,  82;  his  fine 
pictures  of  Nature,  242 ; 
quoted,  262 ;  his  Alcestis 
quoted,  286 

Feltham,    Owen,     his    Re- 
solves, 129 
Flaccus,  Valerius,  246 
Fletcher,  Phineas,  101 
Foote,  Samuel,  quoted,  205 


373 


INDEX 


Fox,  John,  his  Book  of  Mar- 
tyrs, 113 

Frauncb,  Abraham,  his 
Countess  of  Pembroke's 
Ivy  Church,  309 

Froudb,  James  Anthony,  on 
the  effect  of  discouraging 
the  study  of  the  Classics, 
65 

Garnett,  Father,  354 
Geoffrey    of      Monmouth, 

102 
Gervinus,  Prof.,  quoted,  360 
Glanville,  Joseph,  1(A 
Gibbon,  Edward,  125  :  160  : 

198 
Goethe,  49:  86  ;  quoted,  273 : 

360  :  362 
Goldsmith  quoted,  247 
GosSE,    Edmund,  his  Short 
History  of  Modern  Eng- 
lish Literature   reviewed 
110-32 
GossiNG,     analysis    of     the 
accomplishment,  115 ;  com- 
pared with  Euphuism,  id. 
GowBR,  John,  124 ;  Confessio 

Amantis,  196 
Gray,  Thomas,  on  Lydgate, 

98 
Greene,  Kobert,  14 

Hall,  "William,  Mr.  Sidney 

Lee  on,  216 
Hampole,    Richai'd    of,    his 

Pricke  of  Conscience,  179 


Harrison,  Mr.  Fiederic,  35 
Hawes,    Stephen,    his   Pas- 
time of  Pleasure,  200 
Hbraclitus  quoted,  361 
Hermesianax  quoted,  287 
Hill,  Aaron,  331 
HoccLBVB,  Thomas,  198 
Hogg,  Mr.  James,  his  Eecol- 
lections    of    De    Quincey 
reviewed,  203-10 
Homer      quoted,     his    fine 
descriptions      of     Nature, 
237-9  ;    his    women,  286  : 
288;    his    description    of 
Hades,  297 
Hooker  quoted,  362 
Horace,     influence   of    his 
Epistles    and    Satires     on 
English  poetry,  60  ;  quoted, 
161  :  297  :  301 ;  deficient  in 
poetic  sensibility,  336 
Hroswitha,  251 
Huxley,    Prof.,  on  Merton 
Chair  at  Oxford,  38 

Ibycus,  240 

Jago,  Eichard,  249 

James    I.   of    Scotland,    his 

Kingis    Quair,    172;      its 

genuineness       vindicated, 

174-82 
Japp,  Dr.  Alexander,  Life  of 

De  Quincey,  209 
Jkbb,  Prof.,  his  services  to 

Greek  Literature,  258 
Johnson,  Dr.,  quoted,  152 


374 


INDEX 


JoNSON,  Ben,  on  Poetry,  280 
JowBTT,  Prof.,  quoted,  64 
JusSBRAND,  M.,  his  Literary 
History    of    the    English 
People  reviewed,  193-202 

Keats,  John,  127  :  298  :  347 

Landor,  W.  S.,  298 
Lang,  Mr.  Andrew,  259 
Lauderdale,  310 
Leaf,  Mr.  Walter,  259 
Lee,  Mr.   Sidney,    his   Life 

of  Shakespeare  reviewed, 

211-8 ;     on    Shakespeare's 

Sonnets,  229-30 
Le  Gallibnne,  Mr.  Eichard, 

his  Retrospective  Reviews 

reviewed,  151-7 
Leopardi  quoted,  20  :  300 
Lesbia  and  Catullus,  335- 

50 
Lessino,  on  Philologists,  86; 

his  Laocoon,  41 ;  his  Ham- 

burgishe  Dramaturgic,  67 
LoQ-ROLLiNO,  its  pernicious 

eflfects,  133-44 
LONQINUS,       the       Treatise 

attributed     to,    discussed, 

276-8 ;  quoted,  270 
Lydqatb,      his     style     and 

versification,   98;  id.,  115; 

characteristics       of       his 

poetry,  198-9 


Maoaulay,  Lord,  145  :  151 
Mallet,    David,    claim    to 


authorship  of  Rxde  Britan- 
nia discussed,  321-4 
Malory,  Thomas,  201 
Mannynq,     his    Handlying 

of  Synne,  195 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  14 
Martial,  his  epigrams,  337 
Max  MUller,  Prof.,  52 
Melbaqer,   his  Anthology, 

116-7 ;  quoted,  243 
Mbnandbr  quoted,  262 
Mimnermus,  his  love  poetry 

to  Nanno,  287 
Milton    quoted,  41    (note): 
62  ;      his     apology      for 
Smectymnuus,  quoted,  103 ; 
on  poetry,  267;  quoted,  212; 
music  of  his  verse,  317 
Mitpord,    Rev.    J.,    on  the 
corrections  in    Thomson's 
Seasons,  330-4 
Montague,       Lady      Mary 

Wortley,  125  :  306 
Morel,  M.  L^on,  his  Mono- 
graph on  Thomson,  319 
MoRB,      Sir      Thomas,     his 

Utopia,  101 

More,  Henry,  274 

Morgan,  Sir  George  Osborne, 

his  Translation  of  VirgiVs 

Eclogues  reviewed,  308-17 

MORLEY,      Mr.      John,    63 ; 

quoted,  64 
Myers,  Mr.  Ernest,  259 
MttLLER,      Prof.       E.,      his 
Geschichte  der  Theorie  der 
Kunst  bei  den  At  ten,  264 


375 


INDEX 


Ogilvie,  John,  310 
Ovid,  60 :  177  :  178  :  246 

Pacuvius,  his  Dulorestes 
quoted,  244 

Palgrave,  Francis  Turner, 
his  Landscape  in  Poetry 
reviewed,  236-49;  an  ap- 
preciation of,  250-4 

Pater,  Walter,  62  :  152  : 
265  :  267 

Pecock,  Reginald,  his  Ee- 
pressor,  128-9 

Petrarch,  287  :  296 

Persius  quoted,  15 

Phillips,  Mr.  Stephen,  his 
ix)ems  reviewed,  294-300 

Pindar  quoted,  262;  his 
word  pictures,  240 

Plato,  his  Symposium,  78-9 ; 
quoted,  263 ;  his  theory  of 
poetry,  274  :  276 

Plutarch,  his  pictures  of 
women,  290 

PoMFRET,  John,  his  Choice, 
101 

Pope  quoted,  84 ;  on  Philo- 
logists, 86 ;  quoted,  139  ; 
his  Satires  and  Epistles, 
125;  his  alleged  revision 
of  Thomson's  Seasons  dis- 
cussed, 328-32 

Propertius  quoted,  246 

Publishers,  honourable 
character  of  the  leading,  23 


Quarterly  Review,  article 


on   From   Shakespeare  to 
Pope,  40 
Quintilian  as  a  critic,  278 

Raffety,    Mr.    Frank   W., 

his  Books  worth  Reading 

reviewed,  145-50 
RossETTi,     Dante     Gabriel, 

quoted,   173 
RossBTTi,  "William  Michael, 

his    edition    of     Shelley's 

Adonais,  76-83 
RucELLAi,  his   dramas   and 

his  VApi,  124 

Saintb-Beuve,  his  essays, 
41 ;  on  Philologists,  86  ; 
his  criticism,  270 ;  the 
master  of  Matthew  Arnold, 
281 

Saintsbury,  Prof.,  his  Short 
History  of  English  Litera- 
ture reviewed,  93-109 

Sallust,  61 

Schiller,  41 

Schick,  Dr.,  on  Lydgate's 
versification,  99 

Schippbr,  Dr.  J.,  on  Dun- 
bar, 183 

SCHMEDINO,  Dr.  G.,  his 
Monograph  on  Thomson, 
318 

School  op  English  Litera- 
ture AT  Oxford,  its  de- 
plorable organization,  45- 
72;  how  this  may  be 
remedied,  73-5 


376 


INDEX 


Scott  or  Amwell,  249 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  on  Dun- 
bar, 186 

Sblf- Advertisement,  its 
organization  and  effects, 
158-64 

Seneca,  influence  on  English 
prose,  61 

Sbdulius,  251 

Shaftesbury,  third  Earl  of, 
his  style,  117-9 

Shakespeare,  62  :  81-2; 
Clarendon  Press  edition  of 
his  Hamlet,  84-92 ;  quoted, 
154:168;  Mr.  Lee's  Life 
of,  211-8 ;  scantiness  of 
traditions  of,  213;  his 
sonnets,  various  theories, 
219-20 ;  about  difl&culties 
of  supposing  them  auto- 
biographical, 225-6 ;  his 
relations  with  Southamp- 
ton and  Pembroke,  228- 
34 ;  story  in  the  Son- 
nets probably  fictitious, 
235 ;  religion  of  Shake- 
speare, 361-69 ;  his  poli- 
tics, 352-3  ;  not  a  Ro- 
man Catholic,  352-6  ; 
on  death,  357-8 ;  silence 
about  a  future  life,  869, 
and  about  metaphysical 
questions,  360 ;  comparison 
in  this  respect  with  Aris- 
totle, 360;  his  theology, 
362-4;  on  prayer,  365; 
on     conscience,    866 ;    his 


attitude  to  Christianity, 
366 ;  when  his  ethics  are 
Christian,  368;  his  reli- 
gious ideas  summed  up, 
36a-9 

Sharp,  Archbishop,  quoted, 
218 

Shelley,  his  Adonais,  76- 
83 ;  absurd  criticism  of 
his  style,  126 

Shenstone,  William,  249 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  131 

Simpson,  Richard,  361  : 
368 

Smart,  Christopher,  his 
Song  to  David,  340 

Smeaton,  Mr.  Oliphant,  his 
life  of  Dunbar  reviewed, 
183-92 

Sophocles,  242;  his  ethics, 
267-9 ;  quoted,  286  ;  his 
ideal  man,  366 

Spenser,  Edmund,  112 :  113  ; 
influence  of  Greek  and 
Latin  Classics  on,  120-1; 
influence  of,  on  Milton, 
121;  on  the  functions  of 
poetry,  280 

Stanihurst,  Richard,  308 

Stephen,  Mr.  Leslie,  36 

Stesichorus,  his  Calyce, 
287 

Stevenson,  R.  L.,  Letters 
reviewed,  165-71 

Strabo  quoted,  287 

Swift,  Jonathan,  his  Senti- 
ments   of    a    Church    of 


E.G. 


377 


BB 


INDEX 


England  Man,   113;    Tale 
of  a  Tub,  144 

Tacitus  quoted,  20  :  192  : 
264 ;  as  a  critic,  278-9  ;  on 
immortality,  360 

Talleyrand  quoted,  210 

Tennyson,  Lord,  62  :  162-3 : 
245  :  247  :  298  :  337 ;  as  a 
critic,  252 

Terence,  women  of,  292 

Text-Books  on  English 
Literature,  specimens  of, 
76-150 

Thackeray  on  Wordsworth 
and  Moore,  250 

Theocritus,  243 

Theognis  quoted,  262 

Thomson,  James,  243 ;  quoted, 
248;  claim  to  the  author- 
ship of  Rrde  Britannia 
vindicated,  321-8  ;  cor- 
rections in  the  Seasons 
discussed,  328-34 

Thorpe,  Thomas,  216  ;  227  : 
235 

ToVBY,  Rev.  D.  C,  his  edi- 
tion of  Thomson's  poems 
reviewed,  318-34 

Tremenhebrb,  Mr.  J.  H.  A., 
his  version  of  Catullus' 
Love  Poems,  335-50 

Trissino,  his  Sofonisba, 
123 

Thucydidbs,  258  :  260 ;  on 
hope,  262 

TuPPER,  Martin,  251 


Tyler,  Mr.  Thomas,  on 
Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  228 

Tyrwhitt,  Thomas,  223 : 
234 

Universities,  their  indiffer- 
ence to  the  interests  of 
literature,  38-40  :  45-50 ; 
effects  of  the  exclusion  of 
the  Greek  and  Roman 
Classics  from  the  so-called 
Schools  of  Literature  at 
Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
55-71 

Varro,  as  a  critic,  278 
Virgil,  his  beautiful  descrip- 
tions of  Nature,  245-6;  his 
Eclogues,  308-17 
Voltaire    on    Philologists 
86 

Walters,       Cuming,       on 

Shakespeare's         Sonnets, 

220-1 
Warburton,    Bishop,    205 ; 

quoted,  270 
Warton,    Dr.     Joseph,     on 

Thomson's  poetry,  330 
Warton,  Thomas,  on  Lyd- 

gate,  98 
Watson,  Mr.  William,  great 

beauty    of     his     English 

hexameters,  317 
Wharton,  Dr.,  his  Sappho, 

148 
Willmott,    Rev.    Aris,   his 


378 


INDEX 


Gems  from  English  Litera- 
ture, 163-4 

WiLL0UQHBT,hi8  Avisa,  101 : 
22B 

Wordsworth,  William,  1B3 ; 
on  Dyer's  poetry,  248 ;  his 
poems  on  classical  legends, 
298 

WoRSFOLD,  Mr.  Basil,  his 
Principles  of  Criticism 
reviewed,  270-82 

Wranqham,  Archdeacon, 
810 


Wright,     Dr.     Aldis,    his 

edition    of    Shakespeare's 

Hamlet,  84-92 
Wright,  Mr.  W.  H.  Kearley, 

his    West   Country    Poets 

reviewed,  301-7 
Wyntown,    his     Chronicle, 

180-1 

Xenophon  on  women,  290 
Young,  Edward,  quoted,  87 


Butlet  &  Tanner,  The  Selwood  Printing  Works,  Frome,  and  London. 

370 


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